Alive and Impossible
by vesmolol
Summary: Life and death. PTSD and relief. Sacrifice. Love? What does a soldier go through when fighting the alien invaders and defending Earth? This is the story of the soldiers of XCOM in Beaglerush's Youtube let's play "Live and Impossible Season 2". If you are reading this and haven't seen the series, I highly encourage you to check it out.
1. Chapter 1: First contact

Chapter 1: First Contact

The air conditioning hummed deeply, almost drowned by the roaring of the jets from outside. The six faces illuminated by the orange glow of the halogen lights betrayed emotions ranging from focused and determined to worried and nervous. All of them understandable really; it's not every day you are one of the first responders to an alien threat on your home planet. The briefing had been quick and to-the-point: stop the abduction of civilian targets undergoing at Nagoya, Japan. They were all prepared for these sorts of urban operations, most of XCOM personnel being former SWAT, military or various counter-terrorism units like GIGN or GSG 9. However, none had ever fought an enemy like this before.

* * *

><p>"What the hell?"<p>

The exclamation caused the commander to halt his briefing. The OP room was filled with murmurs by the six operatives seated around the table. Projected on the silver screen was an image of a small, gray humanoid creature with large, segmented eyes and no visible mouth.

"Would you mind, private Medve?" The commander spoke in a cool tone, yet there was a clear line of amusement running below the surface. The large, broad-shouldered ex-SWAT, somewhat embarrassed by his sudden outburst, muttered an apology and seated himself back at the table. Across from him, a lean woman with dark skin and cool, calculating eyes spoke up. "This thing can't be larger than a 10-year-old human. What's the catch, commander?"

"I was about to get to that, private Foogleman." The commander clicked on his remote and the picture of the little gray changed to that of a human police officer leaning against a brick wall. The man was undoubtedly dead, with a massive hole where his left lung was supposed to be. The uniform around the wound was burnt, and the wall behind him had green burn marks. There was another wave of whispers around the room, but this time they died out on their own without an intervention by the commander.

"We believe the enemy has access to weapons systems that far exceed our own. Our research and engineering are talking about potential plasma weaponry, but we will need to obtain actual evidence from the field ourselves to make more sense of this. Whatever the case may be, I don't want any of you to end up like this guy right here. Use extreme caution when engaging the enemy, you hear me?" The room responded with collective nods. "Now, let me wrap this up quickly, there's no time to waste. Further instructions en route and at the op zone."

* * *

><p>The voice of the pilot over the intercom announced ETA of 2 minutes until touchdown. Medve scanned the faces of his fellow operatives. Foogleman, the woman who seemed hard enough to take down any man, and hopefully alien. Kamikazemelon, a German with dark hair and serious eyes whose face remained stoic and calm even under these circumstances. Atlanton, a young Aussie girl keeping her eyes shut and taking deep breaths. OrgunUK, an Irishman with freckles on his nose had his usual jolly demeanor replaced with a far-eyed stare. And Drake, an Indian-American woman with caramel skin and dark hair, gently stroking the side of her assault rifle. She caught Medve's look, smiled and quipped, "You ready, big man?"<p>

Medve took a deep breath and straightened his back. With a booming voice only slightly tinted with his Dutch accent, Medve took the attention of the operatives as the Skyranger began its descent.

"This is it, people! We are touching down in what is going to be the most important battle any of us have faced yet; hell, more important than any battle Man has fought before! Now I want this done by the book; no heroics, no turning back, no bullshit. Every man and woman stand together, and we'll all make it home in time for chow. Look lively people!" The response was immediate. The Skyranger was filled with confidence, operatives acknowledging and rogering, slapping each other in the back and picking up their gear right as the aircraft was touching down. Medve caught Foogleman looking at him, bemused with a little smirk on her lips. An angry thought crossed the big man's head,_ "She making fun of me?"_

The Skyranger came to a smooth landing, and everyone lifted the safety frames from their shoulders. Foogleman rose up next to Medve at the top of the ramp that would soon lower, signifying the beginning of the operation.

"Nice speech." Foogleman noted laconically. "These kids really needed the pick-up." She turned her head a little and saw Medve staring at her quizzically. Foogleman smiled and said, "That was a compliment, by the way." She slapped Medve on the back and chambered a round into her assault rifle as the Skyranger ramp began to lower. Medve uttered a thank you, still somewhat puzzled by the mysterious woman next to him. But there were more important things to worry about right now.

"I hope you're ready for the welcoming committee E.T!" Orgun shouted from the back of the Skyranger. The ramp crashed to the pavement at the car park of a pizza place somewhere near Nagoya. Medve raised his rifle and strode out of the Skyranger, Foogleman on his side and the rest of the operatives following suit.


	2. Chapter 2: Back on the force

Chapter 2: Back on the force

Foogleman strode down the darkening back alley of the annihilated police station. With marksman rifle slung over her shoulder, sawn-off shotgun hanging from her hip and dark ponytail tussled by the gentle Brazilian march wind, the scout looked like an exotic goddess of death. The headset lowered around her neck was buzzing faintly with post-op chatter between the commander and the op leader Drake. Coming to a halt at the junction between the back alley and the main street, Foogleman closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of air. It had been a successful operation, and as one of two specialists on the mission, she had played a vital role in guiding the first-timers through the rigors of combat against the alien invaders.

And she'd loved every minute of it.

Stepping out onto the main street, Foogleman laid eyes on the rest of the squad clustered around a busted police car on the side of the road. Drake was some ten meters off to the side of the group, flicking through her notepad and immersed in the post-op briefing with the commander. The oriental assault looked flushed and embarrassed. The hot topic of the conversation seemed to be the psychic attack Drake had undergone and how she'd panicked in the middle of the battle. Foogleman strode over to her and caught her attention with a gentle hand placed on the assault's shoulder. Drake looked up from her notes.

"Op zone clear", came the brief report from the scout, lacking the usual edge Foogleman was known for around the barracks. Drake responded with a nod and returned her attention to her notes and the chatter on her headset. Foogleman heard the voice of central officer Bradford come through on the line, in a heated argument with the commander. She rolled her eyes and turned down the volume of the headset hanging around her neck. Turning away from Drake, she strode over to where the rest of the squad were gathered around the police car.

Ballystix was sitting on the asphalt, leaning against the front bumper of the police car. He'd taken a nasty hit from a drone in first contact, but luckily the shot hadn't penetrated his Kevlar. However, the impact had left a massive bruise on his chest and the Irishman was seriously out of breath after the intense firefight inside the police station. Resting next to him was Merlin. The hot-headed Mexican lady had taken a hit from a drone as well, taking most of the wind out of her sails. Perched on the hood of the car was Frag, a former member of the Israeli counter-terrorism unit Yamam. He was cleaning his assault rifle while silently listening to the banter of the man inside the police car.

Awo took another drag from his cigarette. "It's just like being back on the force! And I don't mean just the milieu. Getting capped by some goddamn punk-ass fucktard." The Pole grimaced and took another drag from his smoke. His left shoulder was a mess. The wound left by the mechanical flier had burned right through his Kevlar and the Skyranger paramedics had been able to do only so much. In fact, Awo had gotten so tired of their fumbling around in his shoulder he'd chased them off back into the Skyranger.

Leaning back on the driver's seat, Awo turned his attention to the Israeli. "You gotta teach me how to take those fuckers out, Frag. That was some goddamn fine shooting out there! How the hell did you drop those things right off the air?"

Frag turned towards Awo and gave a little shrug. "Aimed for the blue sensors on the front." Merlin let out a loud cackle and quipped, "Well that fucking sucks for you, Awo. You're not a good enough shot to make that happen."

The former police officer jerked forwards to shout at Merlin through the busted windshield, only to have his fuck you interrupted by a sharp stab in his shoulder. Groaning, he fell back to the seat, sparking guffaws of laughter from everyone on the police car.

"You better watch it, big boy. Or do you want mama to call the pawamedics back?" This time Merlin's comment was followed by a roar of laughter from the operatives. She was being absolutely ruthless, and loved every minute of it.

"You better cut him some slack, girlfriend. It must've been tough." Awo gave the approaching Foogleman a grateful look. With an evil smirk on her lips, the scout continued, "I mean, as a Pole, he must be more used to repairing flying toilets than busting them up." Awo let his head fall back against the seat as the operatives roared with laughter once again, Merlin doubling over with tears in her eyes. Ballystix glanced at her with concern and inquired, "You all right? That looks painful." Merlin kept on laughing, holding onto the side that had taken the drone hit and between breaths for air and guffaws of laughter, she managed to whisper:

"Totally worth it."


	3. Chapter 3: Shipment canceled

Chapter 3: Shipment cancelled

"Flashbang out!"

Operative Kilroy's shout echoed through the ever-darkening dockside, followed by a bright flash of white light. The two sectoids shied away from the explosion, taking cover behind the small wooden boxes containing who knows what kind of cargo.

"Don't let up, advance!" shouted Frag, the man fresh out of infantry school and put straight in charge of his second operation. Kneeling behind the concrete base of a dark lamp post both eyes wide open, he shouldered his G36 and scanned the aliens holed up inside the warehouse. Two of them holding the front and disoriented from the flashbang, three further back partly concealed by the shadows of the large concrete pillars of the building. One of the sectoids poked its head out from behind the box it was using for cover, and Frag didn't hesitate. His rifle snapped on target and released a burst of high-caliber bullets, ripping a massive hole in the creature's bulging cranium.

Out of the corner of his eye, Frag saw Kamikaze press up against the front of the warehouse. Pulling the pin out of his HE grenade, the German tossed the explosive around the corner. The second sectoid's box went up in an explosion of cheap knock-off sneakers. The G36 sang its merciless song, and the sectoid was filled with holes from its stomach to its head. Iku and Kilroy took full advantage of the opening their squad leader had created for them and moved up to cover closer to the warehouse.

A massive explosion erupted inside the warehouse, and a forklift one of the sectoids was using for cover went up in flames. To add insult to injury, the forklift came down on top of the without-a-doubt-already-dead sectoid, sending a gush of yellow ichor spewing out of the creature's body. "Whooooooo, the doc ain't gonna be happy with that one!" came the merry shout of the rocketeer Orgun from inside the warehouse.

Three down, two to go. Seeing their podmates go down in a swift display of ruthless breaching work, the remaining sectoids turned tail and ran. Frag took aim on one, but before he could pull the trigger, a fast-paced crackle of gunfire erupted from the MP7 Kilroy was holding. With a pitiful squeal, one of the sectoids fell down on its face, never to move again. Frag turned his attention to the other fleeing alien, but just as he caught sight of it, the forklift exploded, sending a massive stream of sparks flying into the roof of the dark warehouse, concealing the fleeing sectoid and causing the shadows cast by the concrete pillars to dance eerily on the walls of the building.

The voice of the commander came through on the line, relaying Frag new orders. Reloading his assault rifle, the infantryman spoke up, "All right, Orgun, you hold the warehouse. Everyone else, up to the roof using that drain pipe. Kilroy, me and Kamikaze first. Iku and Medve, you cover us. Go go go people!"

The night was still young, and there were still more sectoids to kill out there.


	4. Chapter 4: Midnight activity

Chapter 4: Midnight activity

The XCOM base was quiet, with most of the personnel having turned in for the night. Base security stood guard at their designated locations and patrolled down the corridors every once in a while, ever vigilant of any intruders alien or human. Down in engineering and research the lights were on and the pace never slowed down. The personnel were divided into multiple shifts to ensure the important projects would never halt to a stop. On the upper levels of the base on an adjacent block to the barracks, the cafeteria was completely dark. No windows to let in moonlight, and the green lights signifying emergency exits provided no illumination past themselves.

The main door swung open, letting in a sliver of orange-hued light from the corridor and five dark figures strode into the cafeteria. "Where the hell is the light switch at?" inquired a man with an irish accent, fumbling at the wall next to the door. "I don't think there is one. They switch the lights on from the main panel every morning. Hopefully engineering is gonna do something about it sometime soon." came the response from another man, this one standing in the middle of the room, his speech slurring through a heavy Mexican accent.

Three of the figures had made their way straight over to the kitchenette part of the cafeteria separated from the dining hall by a long counter containing heaters, ovens and all sorts of workspaces required to feed the personnel of XCOM. The wall opposite the counter was full of closets containing all sorts of dry food stuffs ranging from canned beans to flour and pasta. Further down the row stood three massive refrigerators containing all of the fresh foods. The three shadows came to a stop at the first refrigerator.

"Come on, open it up. Open up, I said!" urged a woman in a heated German accent. Fumbling on the fridge door was another woman, cursing as her hands slipped along the smooth surface, "I can't find the goddamn handle!" The third, considerably larger figure snorted both in amusement and contempt, reached over and pulled open the fridge.

The lights from inside shone on Frag, Foogleman and Zim. Zim pushed past the stumped Foogleman and started scouring the inside, muttering excitedly in German. Foogleman was giving Frag a poisonous sideways stare. "On the right? Are you kidding me, who the fuck builds a fridge that has a handle ON THE RIGHT?" Frag let out a small guttural laugh and joined Zim in her scavenging, ignoring Foogleman's complaints. The scout pursed her lips tightly together and joined her teammates in search of food.

Orgun leaned over the counter, the light illuminating his scruffy kevlar armor, straight from the field. "Man, we should've just grabbed something to eat from that Mighty Cart. We saved Chicago's ass from the aliens, you'd think that counts for something!" Vherid joined him at the counter, cracking and popping his fingers, "Yeah, I'm sure they're real grateful for that HE blowing up half the store front. Or you busting up that car. Who knows, it could've been the owner's."

Frag leaned back from the fridge and noted over his shoulder, "Yeah, he does have a knack for blowing shit up. You should've seen his work at Fukuoka." Orgun puffed his chest and lifted his chin proudly, summoning forth an exaggerated Irish accent "I take great pride in me work, fellas. The Boom of the Irish they used to call me back in the army oh yes they did." Frag and Vherid both let out a heartfelt laugh, while Foogleman shook her head, trying to keep the smile from her lips. Zim on the other hand seemed completely oblivious to the banter, her attention fully on the contents of the fridge.

With a predatory glow in her eyes, the German moved the contents of the fridge around, scouring the depths for what she was looking for. Eyes locking on target, she left out a loud _aha!_ and pulled her haul from the back of the fridge. Arms full of sausages and a mustard bottle, she turned around and dumped her treasure on the counter. Without a moment's wait, she dug right in.

"Just sausages? Wow, she really IS German." Orgun noted laconically, reaching for one himself. Frag and Foogleman turned back from the fridge and deposited their haul on the counter: a couple of milk cartons, some minced meat pastries, fresh tomatoes, hard boiled eggs, butter and a massive loaf of bread. Foogleman eyed the contents of the counter with an approving look in her eyes and remarked, "Well I reckon that should last us for a little while. Shall we?" Frag returned her gaze with a smile and a nod, and they joined the rest of the squad in their midnight feast.

For a moment, the cafeteria was filled with nothing but the sounds of eating as the squad gobbled down as much food as fast as they could. Every now and then, an "ohgodsohgood" or a request to pass something over was heard, but there was no need for more words. After a frantic blitz of a few minutes, the pace started to slow down.

"Aaaaaaahhhhh!" came an exclamation of pure content and joy from Orgun as he leaned back from the counter, laying himself down on the floor and slinging an arm over his forehead. "I could just die right now. I don't wanna go by a sectoid's plasma pistol or getting drilled open by a goddamn drone, screaming and pissing myself in a pool of my own blood. Just kill me right now when I'm happy and content."

Vherid glanced down at him. "XCOM's finest everybody", he noted before returning his attention to the food. Foogleman was bouncing a hard-boiled egg in her hand, staring off into the distance. "I should bring some over for Drake. It'd be a shame if all she got tonight was that horrid medbay sludge." Frag looked up from the massive slice of bread he had stacked three sausages and a coating of hot mustard on and replied, "That's a good idea."

Lying on the floor, Orgun crossed his arms behind his head and said, "What is this? The Ice Queen starting to soften up?" Unabashed by the constant quips and jests of the boisterous rocketeer, Foogleman just shook her head and started gathering a portion for her friend. Dropping the act and becoming serious for a moment Orgun said, "These injuries do suck. We've been getting a lot of them in these ops. It's just a matter of time before someone…" His voice trailed off, not wanting to make the seriousness of the conflict real once again after such a good time.

"Until someone dies?" Foogleman finished off Orgun's trail of thought. Everyone around the counter looked a bit distraught by the scout's blunt words. Everyone except Frag, who had his trademark contemplative look on his face, betraying none of his emotions. Foogleman continued, "Come on, we're all trained professionals here. Let's not forget what this is all about." The light from the refrigerator behind her cast dark shadows on her dark-skinned face, making her expression hard and cold. She closed her eyes and let out a small sigh, her expression softening.

"Sorry for the buzzkill. I'm gonna take these over to Drake and hit the sack. See ya." And with that, the scout strode off, the guys' eyes following her back out the door. Zim, finally looking up from her sausages mused, "Drake's gonna be fine though. What's the point worrying about tomorrow anyway? Today's the only day that matters. And it had sausages and dead aliens in it, which makes it pretty damn good in my book." The eccentric woman let out a small laugh and grabbed one last sausage with her as she strode towards the open door, waving goodbye over her shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5: Horizons

Chapter 5: Horizons

Kilroy stood at the doorway of the crashed UFO, leaning onto its alien material and looking over the marchland as it slowly came to life at dawn's first light. The chirping of crickets and churning of frogs was slowly fading away and being replaced by the song of sparrows. Her first operation in charge of a squad had gone over way smoother than she'd expected. There had only been a pod of drones guarding the crashed UFO, alongside what she assumed was the pilot of the UFO. She smiled at the memory of the breach. She had led the charge on the mysterious creature, only to have Scubaman snag the kill from her. She had a feeling the light-hearted jokester would go far with shooting skills like that. Turning away from the beautiful sunrise, she quietly observed the crew of operatives inside the UFO.

Scubaman stood over one of the busted flight computers, constantly trying to fiddle with the alien tech. Stoli, a total babe of a German was snapping at him, swatting away his hand from the precious tech. Kilroy raised her voice and shouted over, "Come on Scuba, that's enough. Let the geeks down at research figure that stuff out." Scuba looked up from the computer with a furrowed brow, stumped like a little kid who got told they couldn't have any candy at the candy store.

Daishi, a tall blonde was sitting cross-legged on the platform that contained the power source of the UFO. She was a true Canadian through-and-through, always nice to everyone. She was immersed in a conversation with DSM sitting next to her. The South African woman was gesturing wildly with her hands, eliciting a laugh from Daishi every once in a while.

The last member of the squad stood outside the UFO, staring off into the sunrise. Renzol was a weird one. The small German with blonde hair and plain looks had displayed some real shooting work, dropping two drones with ease. She definitely didn't speak much, and her body seemed too frail for the rigors of combat. Kilroy mulled her tongue around in her mouth. If she'd learned anything in her days with the FBI, it was that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. However, Renzol looked like she could cry at the sight of the beautiful dawn, and Kilroy shook her head a little.

_She's too weak. She's not gonna last._ With her head filled with dark thoughts, Kilroy turned her attention back to the sunrise. This mission had been too easy. There had to be something dark brewing behind that beautiful, beautiful horizon.


	6. Chapter 6: Not dead yet

Chapter 6: Not dead yet

The backblast of the rocket launcher sent a gust of last autumn's dead leaves into the air from the cemetery ground. The look on Orgun's face was un-characteristic to say the least. Gone were the jolly and merry spirits, replaced with sheer determination. The rocket crashed into the crypt of some unfortunate Englishman, blowing the crypt and the two aliens behind it to kingdom come. _Got ya you thin fucking freak!_ flashed across Orgun's mind, but to his mic he reported briefly, "Rocket impact confirmed, two X-rays down. Repeat, two X-rays down."

With the squad's left flank clear, Orgun glanced right from his position at the entrance of the cemetery. He just managed to catch Kilroy spray a sectoid's face full of buckshot from point-blank range as the assault moved in aggressively into the vanguard. Foogleman was running hard along a row of tombstones, MP7 singing its deadly song and nailing a sectoid to the concrete wall surrounding the cemetery. The scout veered left, sliding behind a tombstone, only narrowly dodging the plasma barrage from a sectoid to the center of the cemetery. Crawling to a bomb node next to the tombstone, Foogleman produced a small nodular EMP device from her rigging and slapped it on the node. The humming from the alien device slowed down and stopped.

A loud bang resounded from Orgun's right and the sectoid hiding behind the bench winced, taking cover from any follow-ups to the high-caliber bullet. On the upper part of the cemetery perched behind a tombstone, Iku chambered another round into his Scout Tactical and reported to his headset, "Hit confirmed, but target is still up." With the threat contained for now, Foogleman pounced to her feet and sprinted across the tiled walkway, taking cover behind a crypt, reunited with Kilroy at the spearhead of the assault.

Medve crashed to take cover behind a bomb node at the bottom of the stairs from the entrance. The large man was cussing out loud as he struggled to bring the heavy-duty Negev to bear on the enemy. Orgun looked up from the ex-SWAT and saw the sectoid had taken off from behind the bench. "Oh shit!" the rocketeer exclaimed, fumbling around with his carbine as he tried to bring it to bear in time.

Three precise gunshots echoed across the cemetery and the sectoid tumbled over a tombstone, lifeless as the person buried beneath it. Frag was standing behind a bench below Orgun, smoke rising from the barrel of his trusty G36.

"Keep up! Advance, there's no time to waste!" The voice of Frag ringing around the cemetery was commanding, it was soothing, it brought joy to a weary heart and confidence to a heart deprived of it. It was the voice of a true leader, urging them ever on through the battle. Everyone responded, with Foogleman sprinting to the left past the row of crypts towards a paved walkway, and Kilroy going for a bomb node next to the mausoleum dominating the center of the cemetery.

The battle had been hectic. Four sectoids, a drone and some alien that looked almost human had assaulted the squad right after they entered the cemetery. It seemed like the battle had lasted an eternity, while it had to have been over in no more than 10 seconds.

Orgun started towards one of the crypts, propping against the wall and signifying to Medve the coast was clear. The gunner hit the power node on the walkway and slapped an EMP on it, causing the green pulse to die down. Orgun peered into the foggy cemetery, scanning for any sign of further activity. The lights of the torches along the walkway barely gave any illumination in the rainy, foggy UK weather. Powerful halogen lights next to the mausoleum walls sent pillars of light into the sky, illuminating the gargoyles perched on the eaves of the building. From the fog came the familiar rattle of sectoids somewhere in the distance. Orgun felt a chill go down his spine, and muttered under his breath, "Jesus Christ and Mother Mary in heavens, this place gives me the creeps."

Starting towards the mausoleum, Orgun reunited with Frag. With rifles raised, both were scanning for activity in the fog, making their way to the steps of the mausoleum. Beyond the building, Foogleman was running into the fog on her own, defusing nodes on the other side. Meanwhile, Kilroy was holding the front of the building behind a statue of an angel, looking over the plasma bomb set up on the yard.

The squad moved up to the bomb, Foogleman reuniting with them from the right. Medve and Iku were holding the left side farther back. Frag came to a halt at the bomb and spoke briefly into his headset. Then he spoke up, "We still have time according to the head engineer. Clear that leftmost corner of the cemetery, you all heard the sectoids out there. I don't want any interruptions on this."

"Got it, I'm taking point", came the eager response from Foogleman who started off into the fog, MP7 raised. Orgun got in cover behind a tombstone and started prepping his rocket launcher. "Contact!" came the cry of Foogleman from the fog, and Orgun saw the scout for a brief moment as the muzzle flash from her SMG illuminated her outline. Through his headpiece, Orgun heard the commander telling him to fire the remaining shredder rocket. Without hesitation, Orgun let fly. Foogle would take cover in time, and the commander wouldn't risk the squad's safety haphazardly. The Irishman had full confidence in the brass of XCOM.

Through the fog came a monstrous sight. The sectoid, covered in horrific shrapnel wounds and bullet holes was charging straight for the bench where Orgun had seen Foogleman's outline at. A bullet whizzed past the creature as Iku failed to hit the mark. Orgun was helpless to do anything, dropping the rocket launcher and fumbling for his carbine once again.

A barrage of gunshots echoed through the cemetery and the sectoid dropped to the ground in a mangled heap. The look on Frag's face was nothing if not determined. Calm, cool and collected, he was the Man incarnate. Orgun stared at him in full adoration, barely noticing the suppressive gunfire Medve was spraying into the corner of the cemetery as Kilroy moved in to mop up the last remaining enemy.

"Everyone in position around the bomb. We don't know what's going to happen once we shut this thing down. There could be more enemies closing in on us as we speak. Move it up, people!" the commands rang true from the infantryman's mouth, and everyone acted without a moment's hesitation. Foogleman moved up to the bomb and consulted with chief-engineer Shen over her headset as the rest of the squad moved into position.

"Cutting the wires!" came the shout from Foogleman as she powered down the plasma bomb. Immediately horrifying, shrill screams echoed throughout the foggy cemetery. Then they came down.

Falling straight from the sky, humanoid forms one might mistake for a human in the fog. But no human is capable of dropping down who knows how many meters these things dropped and surviving it with the bend of a knee. Kilroy dropped the first one before it even hit the roof of the crypt it was landing on, spraying the thing full of buckshot. Orgun took aim on the one to his right, seeing a sniper bullet punch right through the thing's chest, he sent a barrage of gunfire fizzing over the alien's head. But Frag didn't. The thin man was torn to pieces as another expertly aimed burst shredded its chest, the last bullet ending up squarely between its spectacled eyes.

On the left, the remaining thin man was about to open fire on Kilroy, but a massive, deafening spray of bullets hosed from Medve's Negev caused the thing to duck behind the tombstone it was hiding behind. Kilroy didn't waste any time. Springing into action the assault wheeled around to flank the alien. Medve, seeing Kilroy pounce on the thing, cut the suppressive fire and, for a moment, the cemetery was eerily quiet following the deafening bullet storm.

"GET BENT!" the shout from Kilroy broke the moment's silence, and the blast of her shotgun sent the thin man tumbling over the tombstone it had been hiding behind, laying the alien to its shallow grave.

Orgun jumped up and turned to Frag. Grabbing the squad leader into a bear-hug, the Irishman laughed out loud, shouting "High speed low drag! Fucking max speed, no drag! Beautiful goddamn work my man!" A little smile on his lips, Frag removed himself from Orgun's grasp and gave him a little pat on the shoulder. "Good work, Orgun. Foogle, Kilroy, Iku and Medve. Great work everyone. You are some fine operatives."

The praise that would've been so lame from someone else made everyone in the squad beam with pride. From the brilliant, reserved Frag, it was like getting told you are the best in the world.


	7. Chapter 7: Names

Chapter 7: Names

Frag and co were gathered on the bar counter in the operative's break room, surrounded by a crowd of people from the barracks. The XCOM operatives were eager to learn more about the intact UFO the squad had assaulted and recovered, and of the new species of aliens found aboard it. Kilroy and Kungtotte did most of the talking, with Foogleman and Frag supplying their thoughts on the matter every once in a while. Medve was standing up straight, taking long, slow drags of his Cuban cigar, ever stoic and silent in the midst of the bustling crowd. Perched on a stool next to him was Cell, the South African newly promoted specialist gunner, sharing a drag or two from Medve's cigar every once in a while.

Behind the counter administering drinks to the thirsty and jests to everyone were Scubaman and Orgun. Orgun poured a tall, cold lager into a pint and slammed it in front of Frag. "So, corporal Frag is it? You oughta get a nickname now Sir-over-general-officer-person", the Irishman mused while reaching for the empty pint the tall Daishi was offering him over the crowd.

Frag took a sip from his beer, mulling his tongue around in his mouth with a contemplative look. "You decide", came the laconic response from the charismatic infantryman, and Foogleman turned to Frag with a cry of dismay. "No! What have you done?"

Orgun's face lit up in joy as he handed Daishi her drink. Foogleman buried her face in her hands and sighed, "Christ, now you've done it. Why on Earth would you give THIS GUY any more power than he already has?"

"D.O.A. 'Cause when Frag is on the op, those fuckers are dead on arrival", Orgun claimed bombastically. Frag responded with a lift of his eyebrow and tilt of his pint. "I like it", came the short and to-the-point answer from XCOM's number one, followed by another sip of his beer. The crowd around him cheered and started chanting "Foogle! Foogle! Foogle!"

Foogleman stared at Orgun from under her brow, expecting the worst. Orgun rubbed the stubble on his chin while staring contemplatively to the roof of the break room. Finally, he looked at Foogleman with a broad smile on his face and declared, "Lockdown. For her ability to lock down X-ray and man alike." Foogleman burst into laughter and the crowd cheered wildly. Orgun poured another drink and slid it over to Atlanton who was sitting next to Renzol at the end of the counter.

And then it was just the last corporal left. The crowd started chanting Kilroy's name, and the assault straightened her back, puffing out her tank-top clad chest and flexing her biceps in an exaggerated display of strength. Drake, standing behind her whistled and Foogleman cupped her hands around her mouth and let out a "You go girl!" over the crowd's chanting.

Scubaman strode next to Orgun behind the counter and declared, "Sheriff!" The crowd started cheering and Kilroy turned her posing up a notch. Orgun turned over to Scuba, a look of dismay on his face after being stumped by the Latino. "Hey, you heard the man! That was my call!" exclaimed the rocketeer, feigning exaggerated offense at the smug Argentinian. Scubaman crossed his arms over his chest and stated, "And I just made the call for you." Eyeing Orgun up and down Scuba added, "Beer-belly."

Orgun's jaw dropped, and he grabbed Scuba by the shoulders. "I'm NOT fat!" Using the advantage of initiative, the rocketeer turned the infantryman over and tried to pin him to the counter. Scuba responded in kind, and soon they were positively wrestling behind the counter, spouting insults at each other while the crowd cheered them on. The duo passed by close to the liquor cabinet on the wall and sent a bourbon bottle spinning wildly, just a whisker away from falling off.

"Hallo, hallo, hallo! Watch the liquor you dumb oafs!" came the frantic shout of Zim from the crowd and suddenly the good-natured scuffle of the duo was identified as a real danger by the rest of the XCOM personnel. Foogleman, Kilroy and Kungtotte all reached over the counter and grabbed the two jokesters by their shirts, trying to separate them. Not getting a good hold of them, the duo spun away, this time sending a tequila bottle spinning around and around, falling off the shelf.

Daishi dashed forward from the crowd. Leaning over the counter, her body at almost 180 degrees, she grabbed the bottle as it fell. Slinging herself backwards from the counter she came to her feet, holding the bottle triumphantly up in the air, laughing and eliciting cheers from the people around her.

Medve let out a deep sigh, handing his cigar over to Cell and clambering over the counter. Grabbing Scubaman by the waist, he separated the two troublemakers with one strong jerk, tossing the Latino unceremoniously on the ground. Seeing the approaching massive Dutchman, Orgun put his hands up in front of him and started, "Man, it was him. You saw it, he started-", Medve grabbed Orgun by the waist mid-sentence and flung him to the ground as well, the rocketeer letting out a most un-manly scream as he flew through the air.

With the situation dealt with, Medve dusted his hands off and took back his cigar that Cell was offering him. Loud cheers erupted from the crowd, and Foogleman offered her fist up to Medve. The big man smiled, and the gunner's and scout's knuckles bumped together. Behind the counter, Orgun and Scubaman were getting up, both rubbing the back of their head in embarrassment, glancing over at one another with a mischievous glare in their eyes.

Medve hadn't stopped anything. It was just starting.


	8. Chapter 8: The Wager

Chapter 8: The Wager

A loud banging filled the sports hall as the assault and scout were locked in a battle of wills. Drake dashed to her left, swinging her racket wildly and sending the squash ball speeding towards the wall. Foogleman replied with ease, returning Drake's furious strike with an almost elegant touch.

Sweat was dripping down the caramel-skinned assault's brow. Tank top glued to her back and her chin-length hair coming loose, sticking to her face, Drake struggled on. She had no time to pay any attention to the scout on her right, every return strike becoming harder than the last one. Putting all of her strength to a last-ditch effort, Drake visualized the floaters she had destroyed on her last mission. With a loud groan, she struck the ball as hard as she could, right in the floater's face. Tumbling over from the momentum of her blow, the assault watched helplessly as Foogleman returned the strike, unable to answer the scout's game.

Panting with some pace, Foogleman made her way over to Drake. Standing astride over the assault, Foogleman quipped, "What, you done already Drake? I was expecting more from you." Rolling over to her back, Drake lifter her hands over her head and admitted, "You win. Holy hell you are one tough nut to crack." Laughing wholeheartedly, Foogleman offered her hands and helped Drake to her feet.

It had all started with (yet another) ill-advised maneuver by Orgun. The rocketeer had challenged Foogleman to a game of squash for twenty bucks. Foogleman hadn't had any problems with Orgun, quite literally busting his balls due to an unfortunate (or deliberate?) bounce of the ball. Scuba had been eager to pick up the challenge, doubling the bet with a winner-takes-all principle.

Drake had been the fifth challenger. She had thought she was at least decent at squash, but the elusive scout had shown her how things really were. Or who knows, maybe Scuba and Orgun were right, both convinced Foogleman had been a professional squash player before joining XCOM. After all, no one knew what the scout had been doing before joining the outfit. Though Drake had her doubts about squash players being recruited to be Earth's last line of defense.

Foogleman picked up her towel from the side of the pitch, wiping sweat from her brow and neck. Drake made her way to her own gear, taking a long drag of water from her bottle. Foogleman spoke up from the other side of the pitch, "Who was it next? I've lost count of all the people who want to get their asses kicked by me." Drake snapped the water bottle close and slung her towel over her shoulder. "I believe it was Daishi", the assault responded.

"Canuck v Canuck, eh?" Foogleman mused. "She's not gonna get a single point with those lanky legs of hers." Drake glanced at the scout, amused. "You're gonna lose sooner or later. I'd watch that mouth of yours." Foogleman threw back her head, let out a sharp laugh and replied, brimming with confidence "You know me, Drake. The higher the stakes, the better the game. No matter the field we're in."

"Whatever you say. I'm gonna hit the showers." With a small smile on her lips and a shake of her head, Drake waved the scout goodbye. Foogleman turned over to the wall, serving herself and the repeated bangs of the squash ball accompanied Drake out of the hall. Making her way over to the locker room, Drake headed for her own spot at the end of the row, between Foogleman's and Kilroy's. Peeling the drenched tank top and sweat pants from her tired body, she let out a groan. Balling the clothes up, she tossed them into the back of the locker and took out a fresh towel from its hook. The operation combined with the intense game with Foogleman had taken its toll.

Drake walked through the shower room doors, and noted the room was thankfully empty. Not that she had a problem with her own nudity, but she just didn't want to have to deal with anyone right now. Hanging her towel from a hook, she took the nearest shower and turned the faucet. Cold water streamed over her, eliciting a small shout from the assault's lips, every muscle in her body tensing up.

Standing just like that for a minute, Drake felt her body loosen up. Turning the water to warm, she reached for the shampoo on the rack next to her. Scrubbing her lean and toned body clean, she started to feel more like her usual self. Lingering for some minutes longer, enjoying the feeling of the rummaging water on her skin, Drake turned her thoughts to the afternoon's operation.

It had been a small crashed scout over in China. She had led a group of green operatives, with the one-op veterans Awo and Cell accompanying her. No casualties this time. It was definitely an improvement over Brazil's police station and the Mighty Cart episode. Absentmindedly, Drake rubbed at the scarred tissue of her right shoulder. The plasma burn had healed completely, leaving her right arm completely functional. Her thoughts turned back to her squad. It had been the first trial-by-fire for Toothcake, Hypergeek and Volatile. She really should join the squad at the break room for post-op drinks. Not to mention she was yet to meet the three new recruits: Ratamacue, Wolfer and Instinct.

Turning off the shower, Drake reached for her towel and headed back towards the locker room.


	9. Chapter 9: Highway to Hell

Chapter 9: Highway to Hell

Moonlight shone on the busted Brazilian highway. Cars abandoned by their owners as the alien abduction had hit littered the bridge. An overturned truck had spilled its cargo of wooden boxes over the road. Some of the boxes had cracked, releasing piles of broken ceramics onto the asphalt. Daishi moved through the devastation with shotgun held at the ready, eyes peeled for alien activity. Behind her Kungtotte and Iku, the squad's snipers, were setting up their rifles on the overturned truck.

"Hey look, it's another canister of MELD!" Orgun noted excitedly, moving up the highway towards the pulsating orange canister in the middle of the road, some ways forward from their current position. Daishi had a bad feeling about this. Double checking the LZ, all she could see was abandoned cars. As Orgun reached the MELD canister, Daishi saw movement from the corner of her eye.

"TAKE COVER!" the scout shouted and dashed towards the pick-up truck at the squad's back. The tarp covering the bed of the truck flew into the sky as three floaters emerged from below it. Daishi slid towards the half-crumbled concrete wall dividing the two sides of the highway, pulling her flashbang from her rigging and tossing it towards the pick-up truck. The floaters were caught in the brilliant flash, the disorientation giving her squad time to react. The aliens' muffled groans of anger chilled Daishi all the way down to her bones. She'd heard about these things, but actually seeing the grotesque amalgam of flesh and metal move about under the moonlight was truly something out of a nightmare.

A rain of gunfire was unleashed on the floaters from behind the scout as Merlin opened fire. Dual sniper shots rang in the night and one of the floaters fell from the sky. Next to Daishi, Kamikaze hit the same concrete wall and dropped his Negev LMG, reaching for the AP grenade hanging from his belt. Just as he threw the grenade, one of the floaters ducked into cover behind the truck, hiding from the explosion. The other one, unabashed by the fierce assault it was under, fired wildly at Kamikaze. A barrage of plasma whizzed past the German's head, leaving burn marks in his helmet as he ducked for cover.

Daishi heard a desperate cry from up the highway and looking up, she saw Orgun at the MELD canister, covered in green acid and desperately aiming his rocket launcher towards the squad. From further up the darkened bridge, she could see the faint halos of two thin men behind a taxi, illuminated by the plasma fire they were unleashing upon the rocketeer.

"You take the close one!" Daishi shouted at Kamikaze and vaulted over the low concrete wall. The floater close to them had taken off into the sky, well out of range of her shotgun, and it had the best pickings of the highway on which XCOM operative to shoot in the back. Hitting the back of the truck, Daishi stepped out and saw the floater behind the truck taking aim on Orgun. Firing her shotgun, Daishi prayed for the safety of the rocketeer under such merciless assault.

The load of buckshot rattled the floater, throwing its aim off and sending the barrage of plasma whizzing just past Orgun's head. Releasing a muffled cry of agony, the floater took off at incredible speed, the jets that emerged perversely straight from its body spewing smoke and fire as it flew towards the edge of the bridge, trying to get away. A sniper bullet punched through the creature, sending it over the edge and tumbling into the highway below in a mess of blood and wires.

Then the explosion shook Daishi, closing the sounds of the world from her, replaced by loud, unceasing ringing.

* * *

><p>Orgun couldn't believe the order he had just received through his headset. The rocketeer had his back to the MELD canister, plasma flying past him in an unceasing barrage of high energy, causing the hairs at the nape of his neck to stand up. He felt like he was choking, every breath he took pulled in more and more of the green, acidic substance floating in the air. "Can you repeat that, sir?" Orgun managed to whisper into his headset before breaking into a series of rasping coughs, talking becoming more and more difficult by the moment. The commander repeated his order, and the Irishman reached for his rocket launcher. Shouldering the weapon, he took aim at his own squad. He could barely see in the dark night, the acid getting into his eyes, stinging and burning with the power of a million suns during the worst hangover of his life. Having identified what he assumed was the floater, swooping down from the sky towards the squad, Orgun pulled the trigger.<p>

The blast from the rocket threw the launcher off Orgun's shoulder. Pain shot through his mind as every muscle in his body was on fire at once. "No, no, no NO NO NO NO!" the rocketeer started to shout, words dissolving away as he screamed in agony and panic as the acid ate away at his body. Orgun jumped up, turning towards something, ANYTHING that was out of this horrific cloud. Taking a running step caused his legs to explode from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. He didn't even feel the stream of plasma glancing his left arm, burning away at his muscle and skin. Crawling forwards, the rocketeer hit his head on something. The jolt was non-existent. He was on fire, riding the lightning, kicking the bucket, dying. Curling up against the back of the police car, Orgun rocked himself back and forth.

_No no no please not like this. Please God don't let me go like this. Let me go back to that night at the cafeteria._ He didn't know whether he was crying or not. He couldn't feel the tears even if they had come, everything was just burning, burning, burning.

Through the unceasing gunfire, Orgun heard a voice ring clear in the night.

"Hey, hosers! Come and get some of this!"

* * *

><p>With ringing in her ears, Daishi turned back towards her squad. Kamikaze was standing in the middle of the highway, staring at the helmet in his hand. A massive piece of shrapnel stuck out from the kevlar, and the look in the German's eyes was distant and contemplative, almost funny in the Hell of a situation they were in. Kamikaze looked up from the helmet and smiled at Daishi.<p>

A blast of plasma hit the gunner in the back, dropping him like a fly. Daishi screamed out his name, one arm stretched towards the good-hearted man. Past the falling Kamikaze, Merlin and Kungtotte were staring at the sight with horror in their eyes, hunkering behind the cars from the unceasing assault of the thin men. Clenching her teeth together, Daishi spun around and sprinted down the side of the pickup truck.

The tall woman legged it as fast as she could, head down and zig-zagging between the abandoned cars. Plasma flew all around her, the fighter in her refusing to give up. Diving down on the asphalt, she took cover behind an old Prius. Looking up, she could see the thin men close in on Orgun. The rocketeer was a sorry sight, with streams of blood running down from his eyes, huddled at the back bumper of the police car, rocking himself back and forth.

A thin man was approaching the man from either side, one of them hidden from everyone else in the squad behind a large wagon, but deliciously exposed to Daishi. On the other side further away from her, the second thin man was mere meters away from Orgun, taking cover on the opposite end of the cop car from the rocketeer, ready to move in for the kill. Daishi stood up from behind the Prius, shouldering her shotgun and drawing in a deep breath of air, shouting into the night, "Hey, hosers! Come and get some of this!"

The thin man close to her snapped his neck around and saw the scout threatening its flank. In an acrobatic fashion, the alien turned around and started running back. As much as Daishi wanted to nail the bastard right there, she had more important things to do. Standing right out of cover, she released a hopeful shot at the thin man threatening Orgun. The alien responded in kind, the salvo from its plasma carbine striking Daishi in her side. Grunting, the Canadian ducked behind the Prius.

A duo of loud gunshots echoed in the night, and the thin man hissed angrily, pulling back into cover behind the car. Daishi didn't hesitate and sprang up from behind the Prius, holding her left side as she ran forwards. On her left, she saw Merlin kneeling behind the open door of an old Toyota. The infantrywoman dropped her G36 and pulled out her pistol, face twisted into a grimace as she tried to contain the alien behind the cop car. "I got it!" shouted Daishi, taking cover behind the other door of the car. Starting the suppression duty, she hoped against hope she might hit the already winged thin man. Merlin took full advantage of the opportunity given to her and pulled a smoke grenade from her rigging, sending the cloud over to the pitiful Orgun, still threatened by the thin man on the same car, and constantly under plasma fire from the thin man holding the taxi.

* * *

><p>The burning had subsided a little. The world-ending agony had died down to a desperation-inducing throb when he had stopped moving. Orgun looked back at his squad with dead eyes. He saw Daishi and Merlin desperately fighting against the odds behind a blue car. Kungtotte had moved closer too, sniper rifle readied, covering for him. <em>I'm sorry everyone. You shouldn't have to do all this for me.<em> Further back, Iku was kneeling next to poor Kamikaze, slamming what the rocketeer assumed was an epinephrine needle into the gunner's chest. _Sorry Kamikaze. That one was on me._

Orgun's headset buzzed and crackled through the acid, and by some miracle, the voice of the commander came through on the line, "_Orgun, listen to me. Merlin is going to throw you smoke for cover, and I'm going to need you to get up and kill that thin man at the end of the cop car. You hear me? I need you to do this for me."_

Dread filled Orgun's mind. He could feel the panic rising as the thought of moving again chased itself around and around in his head, rising, rising. His carbine was still with him, hanging from its strap around his neck. _They're risking everything for me. I need to do this._ Wheeling around and shouldering his carbine, Orgun turned back into the fight.

There was nothing he could do to control the recoil. As soon as he pulled the trigger, the shot was lost. Spraying a wild burst up into the night sky, Orgun screamed out loud as the burning returned. _You fucker! You lied to me, you did this, you fucking made me do this!_ Tearing the headset from his ears, Orgun cowered behind the car, as still as possible. Not hiding from the thin men, but hiding from the burning, oh the endless burning.

* * *

><p>Daishi looked on with a heavy heart as their trump card failed. Orgun was screaming behind the cop car, lost to the fight once more. Furiously chambering more shots into her shotgun, Daishi looked on helplessly as the thin man moved away from the cop car, Merlin sending a hail of pistol fire towards the alien. "HIT YOU SON OF A BITCH!" the infantrywoman screamed out in frustration as the alien moved about on the moonlit highway, almost mocking them. Realizing what the thin man was doing, Daishi felt her heart skip a beat. "Kungtotte! Look out!" the scout cried into the night.<p>

Hearing Daishi's cry, Kungtotte lowered his sniper rifle and dashed forwards, ducking under the plasma fire. Throwing his rifle to his left hand and pulling his pistol from its holster with his right, Kungtotte stood up, took aim and released a single shot. The thin man's head exploded in a cloud of acid, splattering a nearby car in gore.

_YES! We can do this,_ rang the thought in Daishi's head. "Cover me!" she shouted at Merlin as she took off once again. Pulling her pistol as she ran, she saw the taxi thin man take off into the night, moving closer to Orgun. Firing her pistol on the run, Daishi forced the alien to take cover behind a car. Moving past Orgun, Daishi dropped her pistol and shouldered her shotgun. A barrage of gunfire from Merlin kept the thin man hiding behind the car, and a sniper bullet punched through the framing, drawing a furious scream from the creature. Another sniper bullet whizzed past the scout, and she could hear Kungtotte's battle cry as the thin man who had fled from her earlier left the battle for good.

Now walking, Daishi kept on approaching the car under the moonlit sky. Any moment now. The thin man poked its head out. Daishi pulled the trigger. And the creature's head went up in a spray of bone, acid and neatly combed hair.

* * *

><p>"Will he be okay?" Daishi asked Iku, the battle having died down for now. Kamikaze lay down on the hard asphalt, breathing ever so faintly, but still breathing. The sniper looked up from the stabilized operative with a worried look. "I'm no medic, but I think so. However, we should finish up the operation ASAP. We need to have the area clear for the Skyranger to land and bring the paramedics." Orgun sat on the asphalt, propped up against the concrete wall next to Kamikaze. It had taken Daishi and Kungtotte some real effort to help the rocketeer back to the LZ from the cop car. Every step had seemed painful, and the man was a shadow of his usual self.<p>

Merlin strode up to them with Kungtotte having replaced her as a lookout further up the highway. Glancing at Orgun, the temperamental lady asked, "You can't carry on, right? In that case, I'm assuming leadership of this operation." Orgun nodded his approval, and Merlin turned to Iku and Daishi. "Okay, let's get the two of them to a safer location on this side. The commander relayed me new orders, and we're going to make this work." Daishi let out a small sigh. It had been a long and hard night, but there didn't seem to be an end in sight.


	10. Chapter 10: Dead on Arrival

Chapter 10: Dead on Arrival

Orgun stared absentmindedly at the spring's first flowers. The dandelions were sitting in a vase on the desk next to the rocketeer's bed in the medbay, courtesy of Daishi. Orgun appreciated the pure gesture of friendship, but it couldn't wash away the shame he felt after their last operation. Letting out a deep sigh, the blues-ridden man turned his thoughts to the news they'd received this morning.

An XCOM satellite dispatched over India had caught wind of an alien ship flying in low, clearly trying to avoid detection. The ship, way larger than anything they had previously observed, had landed in the mountains not two hours ago and an emergency response team had been announced. Orgun glanced at the clock hanging above the entrance to the medbay. The ETA was fast approaching, and he wondered whether Frag could make it after all.

As if hearing his thoughts, the door slid open and Frag stepped into the room, decked out in full combat gear, only missing his weapons. Orgun lifted his hand in greeting, and the stoic infantryman made his way over to his bedside. "How are you?" inquired Frag as he came to a stop at his friend's side. "Apart from throwing up my organs and the last shreds of my dignity every once in a while? Pretty good", came the attempt at his usual humor from Orgun, but lacking that merry edge. Instead, it only sounded depressing.

Frag nodded quietly. "You wanted to see me before I left?" Pushing himself forwards from the pillows he was resting against, Orgun straightened his back. With a solemn face, he beckoned Frag closer, putting one hand on his friend's shoulder. "Promise me you'll bring them back safely. I learned everything I needed to about my own leadership qualities in Brazil but you, you are something else. I know you can do this. Bring them all safely home, you hear me?" Orgun's voice was steady, every shred of pretense gone from his face. Meeting the rocketeer's eyes, Frag placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I promise."

And with that Frag turned away, striding out of the medbay, never looking back. Orgun's eyes followed him out the door before turning back to the flowers on his bedside.

He had no idea it was the last time he would see his friend alive.

* * *

><p>The Skyranger bumped up and down heavily as it flew in low across the mountains. The operatives inside held onto the safety frames shackling them into their benches in the rough ride. The dim lights flickered every once in a while, illuminating six beret-clad heads. Foogleman was determination incarnate with no other emotions on her face, eyes locked onto a single point on the opposite wall. Drake's shoulders were heaving as she took in quick breaths, releasing them in sharp puffs, psyching herself up for the coming battle. Volatile was staring at the sunglasses in her hands, focused. The black skin of her veritable bull's neck glistened with sweat and her short cropped hair glowed faintly in the light.<p>

On the other side, Medve was staring into the roof of the transport, taking long drags from his cigar and holding onto his safety frame with one hand. Next to him, Renzol gripped her frame with both hands, knuckles turning white under her gloves. Her breathing was abrupt and her eyes closed. A hand landed on the small rocketeer's shoulder. Looking up with distraught eyes, she saw the gently smiling face of Frag, full of confidence. The squad leader gave her shoulder a small pat, and Renzol's breathing steadied. Nodding at the man, she turned her gaze to the floor of the Skyranger.

"Brace for landing", came the voice of the pilot through the buzzing and rattling intercom, and the operatives spread their legs and steadied their hold on the safety framing. The aircraft creaked and vibrated as the thrusters brought it ever closer to solid ground. With a flex of its suspension, the Skyranger came to a smooth landing.

Jerking the safety frames off their lockdown, the operatives swung them off of their shoulders. Standing up from their benches, everyone reached for the weapon racks on the walls of the Skyranger. With four shotguns on the squad, they definitely wouldn't lack any killing power in what preliminary scans showed to be a close-quarters ship.

Turning to his squad with a determined look, Frag spoke up, "You all know the mission briefing by now. Just follow my lead, and we will all make it out of here." And with that, Frag pulled a pair of sunglasses from his jacket's pocket. The squad grinned at him and everyone summoned forth a pair of their own. Taking one last look at everyone's faces Frag slipped on his sunglasses, everyone in the squad following suit. The Skyranger ramp lowered, and the operatives turned towards the outside world.

"Let's do this", the squad leader proclaimed and strode out into the bright daylight, his band of heroes following in a tight formation behind him.

* * *

><p>The squad was pinned inside the cockpit of the troop ship, holding off the massive force of aliens. The assault had turned on its head as five of the incredibly dangerous outsiders had showed up. Now the assaulters had become the assaulted. The outsiders kept on charging the position desperately held by XCOM, any damage dealt seeming futile as the creatures kept falling back, the crystalline composition of their bodies regenerating the damage dealt. Seekers, mechanical horrors capable of flying and concealing themselves from the naked eye circled the cockpit, looking to latch onto any stragglers in the squad.<p>

"There's no end to this!" shouted Foogleman, sitting outside behind the cockpit with her back to the wall. The scout peeked out from around the corner, immediately pulling back from the plasma fire. Renzol was on the opposite corner, watching the squad's right flank. She was out of rockets with only her carbine left, and the weapon was ill-suited for the heavy firefight to say the least. On the doorway between them, Medve was spraying covering fire through the cockpit into the various doorways swarming with enemies. The rest of the squad was inside the room, hunkering behind flight computers and answering enemy fire as best they could, the green power source in the middle of the room casting eerie shapes on the walls.

Volatile was sitting down, propped up against a flight computer on the wall from where the enemy assault was coming from. She was firing her shotgun wildly at the seekers squirming in through the doorways. Drake stepped out of the main doorway into the plasma fire, blasting the monstrously large outsider trying to make its way in with her shotgun, causing the creature to reconsider its approach. Pulling back inside, a seeker materialized from thin air in front of her, grabbing her with its tentacles. One tendril closed around the assault's throat, leaving her desperately gasping for air. The mechanical creature jerked her towards the doorway, trying to pull her into enemy fire and certain death.

A hail of buckshot struck the creature, and the tendril around Drake's right arm loosened. Her face turning into a determined grimace, Drake turned her shotgun upwards and blasted the thing's circuits out of its squid-shaped body. Left hand going to her throat, the assault clambered over a flight computer, taking cover behind it.

"We need to get the hell out of here! Come on, fall back. We'll draw 'em in!" came a shout from Frag as he dropped yet another seeker. Drake struggled for air, and feeling her windpipe open up, she crawled her way over to Volatile. "Come on, let's go!" the assault urged, leaving her shotgun hanging by its strap and slinging Volatile's arm over her shoulder. Helping the badly injured trooper up, they started to move through the cockpit, plasma flying through the doorways as their squad mates struggled to contain the enemy. Frag was crouched behind the furthermost flight computer, brow furrowed in deep concentration above the sunglasses as he kept firing at the enemy.

Breaking away from the room, bright daylight swarmed the duo of female troopers. Laying Volatile down against the wall, Drake wiped her brow. Medve pulled back from the doorway, taking out his medkit and tending to Volatile. Frag followed the squad back out of the cockpit, ducking under a hail of plasma from an outsider's carbine. "Drake! Get over here! We are doing this right now!" came the shout from Foogleman. Not wasting any time, Drake dashed over to the corner where the scout was at.

"I distract them, you go in for the kill. BREAK!" Jumping out into the fray, the dauntless scout dodged a plasma barrage, then another. Taking cover behind a low ridge emanating from the surface of the bizarre ship, the scout fired her shotgun. Drake turned the corner, going in hard. What she saw was a terrifying sight. Two outsiders were firing their plasma carbines at the scout from the other end of the small building that served as the cockpit of the ship. And right next to her, she saw the huge outsider. The thing stood taller than Medve, and radiated pure energy.

Screaming wildly, Drake charged the enemy leader. A hail of buckshot hit the thing where a human's stomach would be, causing the crystal inside to vibrate wildly as the thing doubled over. Drake pumped her shotgun. The creature looked up, lifting its plasma rifle towards Drake. Using her shotgun as a baton, Drake slammed on the outsider's weapon, causing the plasma barrage to strike the ground below them. Giving the creature another violent strike with the butt of her weapon, she crashed the alien against the wall. Drake didn't have time to think about the other outsiders. All she could do was trust in Foogleman.

In a display of sheer strength and willpower the assault brought her leg in hard, sweeping the outsider's legs from under it, crashing it to the ground and pinning it against the wall. Drake brought her shotgun around. From point-blank range, she crammed the muzzle of the gun into the creature's head and pulled the trigger. A massive spray of dust erupted around her as the alien was finally defeated. Covering her eyes from the cloud, Drake stumbled backwards, wheeling around the corner. Without a moment's delay, Foogleman was next to her, tumbling acrobatically across the gap between the ridge and the wall.

On the middle door, Medve was stuck in a firefight with two sectoids that had pushed up into the cockpit. "More coming down that side!" came a shout from the big gunner. Wiping the dust from her eyes, Drake watched as Frag ran past her to take the corner, Foogleman dashing out into the fray once more. The duo fired their shotguns in unison, and another outsider fell. Cheating death once more, the scout dashed through flying plasma in her trademark fashion, hitting the wall next to Drake.

Foogleman panted hard, lifting her sunglasses and looking at Drake. Her face was lit up, with sweat running down her brow, mouth frozen into a perpetual grin, eyes on fire. She gave a little laugh and shouted, "We're going to do this! We're gonna fucking DO THIS!" Dropping her sunglasses back on her nose, Foogleman pounced onto the doorway to help Medve with the sectoids. Firing her shotgun, the scout shouted wildly as one of the grays behind the flight computer dropped into the ground. Sprinting across the doorway Drake joined the fight as Medve vacated his spot to reload. She fired away, and another sectoid fell, the assault joining her friend in a wild battle cry as only one outsider remained. Drake looked up towards Frag, ready to shout for covering fire as she got ready to move in through the cockpit.

Then the world stopped. A hail of green energy blasted from behind the corner, sending Frag flying through the air. Through her sunglasses Drake saw the world tinted a brownish hue. A stream of dark droplets glistened in the sunlight, suspended in the air. Almost elegantly, Frag's body turned around in the air, the sunglasses coming off and the stream of mysterious glowing droplets, almost like dark pearls, extended along with his flight. His face coming to view now, Drake was expecting the confident, charismatic man to smile and tell her a job well done. Instead, she was greeted by a torn artery in his neck, sending a stream of dark pearls into the afternoon air. With widening eyes, Drake followed her friend's flight to the ground.

"…no…" came the weak denial from the assault's lips. Looking up, she saw Foogleman running towards Frag, rounding the corner. From behind her, she felt a push as she was sent stumbling across the doorway, followed by the loud chatter of Medve's machine gun. Walking towards Frag, Drake couldn't take her eyes off the sight. He wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead. This was Frag after all, the most dependable man she had ever known. Falling to her knees, she reached over and touched the horrific wound in his neck.

"Blood" Drake whispered. "It was blood."


	11. Chapter 10 and a half: Aftermath

Chapter 10 1/2: Aftermath

The door to the doctor's office slammed shut and Drake leaned backwards, resting her head against the cold metal. _You've gotta be kidding me_, the assault thought to herself, the news she'd gotten just moments prior slowly sinking in. Tightening her grip on her crutches, she could feel a lump of frustration forming at the back of her throat. Just thinking about her injury made her think back to the operation, which in turn made her think of Frag, lying on the cold metal, staining the alien ship red with his life's blood. Drake squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears away. _Don't cry, don't you fucking dare cry you loser_. Yelling out in frustration, she slammed the crutches against the door, eliciting a cry of surprise from inside. Avoiding putting weight on her left leg, the assault hobbled out of the medbay.

Kilroy was leaning against the corridor wall, pushing herself up when Drake came through the medbay door. "What did he say?" inquired the brunette assault from her roommate. Drake came to a stop, staring at the floor of the corridor, shaking her head. "Up to a month. Can you believe this shit? I was just fine!"

The wound she had taken during the battle at the alien troop ship had seemed harmless, a plasma burn on her left thigh. The pain killers and medicinal foam they'd applied on the wound as first aid had let her finish the mission without any problems. It was the movement after the administered first aid that had torn the muscle open and harmed the ligaments in her knee. Without the advanced medical facilities and intensive gene therapy XCOM had access to, the injury would have taken up to a year to heal, maybe even longer. But with six weeks into the conflict against the alien invaders, being sidelined for a month seemed like a lifetime for Drake.

Kilroy placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Damn, that's rough. I guess I'll have my work cut out for me without you out there, sergeant." Drake looked up at Kilroy's face. They'd become good friends over the past six weeks, coming through the assault training program together and sharing a room along with Foogleman, Awo, Kungtotte and Merlin. Despite both being multi-op veterans, they were yet to serve on a mission together.

"You better not get yourself killed while I'm out of rotation. I still have my ambition of shooting up sectoids alongside you", the incapacitated assault said, the company of her friend lightening up her mood a bit. Kilroy smiled, tilting her head a little and replied, "I'll hold ya to that."

Making their way towards the barracks, Drake grimaced at the pain in her leg. Noticing her distress, Kilroy spoke up in agitation, "Hurting that bad? Didn't that sleazebag order you any pain medication? Does Kilroy have to slap a bitch again, is that how it's gonna be?" Letting out a small laugh, Drake shook her head. "It's not that. I got prescribed some pretty strong stuff, so there's no way in hell I'm taking it before tonight." Kilroy let out an _aaaaaaah_ as she realized what her friend was talking about. "It's almost time, huh?" Kilroy sighed. Drake nodded, and the duo of assaults continued on towards their room, ready to change into their uniforms.

* * *

><p>"Atteeeee-ntion!" came the shout of central officer Bradford, causing the lines of XCOM soldiers to snap into attention. The natural earth floor of the cave was littered with rocks, soil and roots. The operatives were lined up on both sides of the path leading from the metal door into the middle of the cave. There, a single grave was dug, awaiting its resident. The door creaked loudly as the locking mechanisms came to life, releasing the latches inside and sliding the door upwards. The military band situated against one of the cavern's walls broke into a mournful piece, trumpets announcing the departure of one of Earth's heroes.<p>

The procession came through the doorway, carrying the simple wooden coffin with the XCOM flag on top of it. The words _Vigilo Confido _stood solemnly on top of the insignia. I am watchful. I am relied upon.

Foogleman and Kilroy were carrying at the head, followed by Scubaman and Iku at the hands, and lastly Medve and Daishi at the feet. "Guardians of Earth! SALUTE!" rang the order from central officer Bradford, and the arms of the XCOM personnel rose in unison. Even the commander was there, standing in salute next to Bradford, chief-engineer Shen and doctor Vahlen.

The funeral procession arrived at the end of the road and the casket began its slow, steady descent into the grave. With a gentle thud, it reached its destination and the procession dropped the ends of their linen into the grave. Lining up on both sides of the grave, the six operatives took their places, standing in attention. The military personnel lowered their arms, and the music died down. The commander stepped forwards, taking a deep breath. With a voice only betraying the slightest hint of emotion, he spoke the words:

"From this Earth you came. On this Earth you lived. For this Earth you gave your life. Into this Earth shall you return once again. Rest in peace, Frag._ Vigilo Confido_." Responding, everyone in the cavern repeated the last words in unison. The band started up another song in memory of the fallen, and the six operatives on the graveside took up the shovels sticking from the earthen soil, laying Frag into his final rest.

* * *

><p>Foogleman was sitting on a stool by the counter of the break room, the fury inside her building up by the minute. Sitting next to her were the only other operatives in the room: Drake with her crutches leaning against the counter, Medve with his head hanging down and Renzol, staring off into a corner of the room. Post-op drinks had become a tradition around the base, yet the shock of the whole situation had meant no drinks yesterday.<p>

Foogleman had demanded the break room be left for the crew from Frag's last operation after the funeral, with the other operatives set to join them after an hour. Everyone had agreed, though Foogleman didn't know whether it was because they agreed with her or were afraid of her and frankly, she didn't care. Only Volatile was missing, her injuries too grave and making her too exhausted to carry on after the funeral.

Touching the sunglasses hanging from her tank top, the scout closed her eyes and took in a deep breath through clenched teeth. "This it?" she spoke in a cold, reserved voice, holding back her anger. The other operatives glanced at her, clearly distressed by the heavy atmosphere that was hanging over the squad. Raising her voice, Foogleman continued, "I said is this it? Is this how it's gonna be, huh?" Drake reached over to grab her friend's shoulder and with a weak voice, started, "Foogle…" The assault was cut off by Foogleman shaking off her hand, staring the assault in the eye.

"Is this how you're all gonna act from now on?" the scout pressed on. "Every time someone dies we fall silent, wallowing in self-pity and crying ourselves to sleep? Is that it?" Turning around towards Medve and Renzol, Foogleman was steadily gaining steam. "You think this is what Frag would've wanted? You think he wasn't prepared? I KNOW he was prepared and if he could see you people right now, he'd be shaking his damn head." The scout stared into each one of their faces, forcing them to look back at her.

Medve's brow was furrowed in a mask of sadness under his bald head, but Foogle could see his contemplative look, so similar to Frag's in some ways, come through. The man turned his eyes to the sunglasses he was fiddling with on the counter, letting out a low _hmmmm_. Renzol looked lost, her eyes mournful as she looked the driven scout in the eye. Turning away from her gaze, Renzol pretended to brush up the sunglasses perched in her blonde hair. _Damn, kid. Were you always this lost?_ crossed across Foogleman's mind, before she turned over to Drake.

Drake was smiling up at her, leaning against the counter. The exotic woman let out a small bark of a laugh and shook her head, the dark sunglasses almost hidden in her black hair. "What do you want us to do, Foogs?" Grinning down at her friend, Foogleman reached over and pulled five shot glasses from the stack on the counter. Slamming one in front of everyone, she exclaimed, "Drink!" Handing over a bottle of bourbon to Medve, the scout ordered, "You do the honors big man."

While Medve poured the drinks, Foogleman dug a pair of busted sunglasses from her pocket. Gently placing them on the counter, she put the fifth shot glass in between them. Turning over to pour Drake a drink, Medve noticed the sunglasses and the empty shot glass. With a small smile, he poured one for Frag.

With everyone having a drink in their hands, Foogleman stood up on the railing of the counter, rising a head above Medve. Taking a look around Frag's Finest, the scout raised her shot glass high above her head and let out a veritable battle cry:

"For Frag!"

* * *

><p>The bottom of the bunk on top of her was revolving, around and around, causing the knot in the pit of her stomach to churn about her insides.<p>

Renzol closed her eyes, but that only made the world spin ever faster. Covering her eyes with her arm, the small woman took a disjointed breath. She wasn't exactly a heavy drinker, and the way sergeant Foogleman had kept on pouring her shots had been too much for her. She had tried to say no, but the scout hadn't taken no for an answer. Renzol wasn't really sure whether she'd had fun or not, but she definitely wasn't having fun now.

Clambering up from her bunk, she steadied herself onto a sitting position on the edge of the bed. She took another breath, this one much deeper, sending her head spinning around and around. She grabbed onto the edge of Atlanton's bunk on top of her, waiting for the vertigo to pass before getting up. The churning in her stomach was getting worse by the minute.

Renzol teetered her way across the room, making it to the door. Pushing it open carefully she stumbled into the corridor. The lights weren't exactly bright during night time, but their orange glow still burned her eyes, causing her to shy away from them. Grabbing a hold of the wall, the rocketeer made her way to the end of the corridor where the toilets were located.

As she approached the restroom, the urgency of the wallowing in her stomach started to demand more and more of her attention. Breaking into a teetering jog, she slammed open the door to the restroom and sprinted for the closest stall. Crashing in through the door, Renzol dropped down on her knees and let out the contents of her stomach into the toilet in a flurry of pained gags.

Her abs tightened up as they struggled to purge everything from her body, sweat dripping down her face and tears welling up in her eyes, hands clasping the sides of the toilet until her knuckles turned white. After what seemed like an eternity, the convulsions finally died down. Grabbing a handful of toilet paper from the roll she fell back against the wall of the stall, wiping her mouth.

Sitting against the wall of the toilet stall in her pitiful state, Renzol thought back to the operation. The look on Frag's face as he reassured her in the Skyranger. The rockets she had fired with shaking hands, unable to hold them on target. The man lying down on the alien ship, blood everywhere, forever lost to this world. The funeral, and the words spoken by the commander.

Renzol burst into tears as she curled up, pulling her knees up to her chin. _It's your fault. You let him down, and you let him die, _the thought haunting her. _But I'm weak, I can't help it. I'm not like Foogleman, or Drake. I'm nothing, I'm worthless._ Her body shaken by the violent sobs, Renzol was disgusted with herself, with the weakness she was showing. And that disgust in herself made her weaker, a never-ending cycle of self-hatred she couldn't see a way out of.

The shakes finally dying down, the young woman wiped at her eyes, letting out a groan of frustration. _I need to be strong. I can't let this happen again. I can't let more people die._ In a drunken haze, Renzol got up, sniffling as she opened the stall door. Stumbling out, she tried to make her way back to her bunk as quietly as she could.

Closing the door behind her as she entered her room, Renzol heard Atlanton stir in the bunk above hers. "Hhhmmm, Renzol? You okay?" came the sleepy inquiry from her friend, causing Renzol's heart to skip a beat. Not daring to betray her condition with a sniffle, Renzol bore on with her running nose. "Yeah, just had an upset stomach. Good night." Atlanton responded with a mumbled _g'night_ and turned her side, back asleep in mere seconds.

Renzol gingerly got back in her bed, the world spinning a little less around her now, and the churning in her stomach completely gone. Pulling the blanket up to her chin, the frail girl in her felt like crying some more. Closing her eyes, Renzol summoned forth the picture of Frag, looking down at her in the Skyranger, smiling ever so confidently.

_I need to be strong._


	12. Chapter 11: El Zorro

Chapter 11: _El Zorro_

"Whew! It sure felt good to be back out there, I've been stranded in the base for far too long!" exclaimed Atlanton, striding down the ramp. The Skyranger hangar wasn't exactly a massive room by traditional hangar bay standards, but for a facility completely buried underground, it was of an impressive size. It was the largest room in the XCOM base, with gray metal walls extending up to the surface of the earth, forming into a dome at the top with an extraction hatch just large enough to let the aircraft through. The landing pad was located in the middle of the circular room, with another level some three meters higher circling around it. On both sides of the landing pad, doors led into maintenance shacks of the Skyranger engineers, and at either end of the hall, large stairways connected the two levels together.

The squad made their way over to one of the staircases and started their ascent. Atlanton was at the head of the group, shaking her blonde hair loose from the tight bun she'd shackled it into for the operation, with Kilroy close behind. Zim, DSM and Ballystix followed, while Scubaman hanged back near the landing pad, chatting up one of the engineers tending to the aircraft. On the upper level, the squad headed for the door leading into the arsenal. Dropping off their weapons, they hit the locker room next door.

"I sure could use a shower, this crap smells like it'll never come off!" complained Kilroy, regarding the flak jacket she'd peeled off of herself with disgust. The acid from the thin man had evaporated ages ago, but it had left a horrific smell behind it. Kilroy lifted her arms and sniffed about her arms and armpits with a thoughtful look on her face. "I can't actually even tell whether or not I stink myself. Hey Ballystix, you smell anything?" the assault cracked, offering her armpit for inspection.

"You always smell, Kilroy!" proclaimed Scubaman, striding into the locker room. Kilroy turned to the infantryman with an unamused look and offered him the finger in retort. The man strode up to Kilroy and sniffed her all over, his face twisting into an exaggerated mask of sadness. "Yeah, there go my dreams of ever gettin' it on with you. RIP dreams", quipped the Latino, letting out a deep sigh. Sitting down on the bench, Kilroy got to work on the lacings of her combat boots. "I'd rather do a whole pod of thin men before I'd 'get it on with you', mister", the assault sneered, pulling off one of her boots.

Putting up his best Latino-lover face, Scubaman pulled off his flak jacket, dropping it to the floor. The tank top followed, and with muscled torso completely bare but for the dog tags hanging from his neck, he gyrated his hips and lowered his voice to a rough seductive whisper, "I see you have not heard of señor Scubaman, _mi amor_. Renowned lover and killer of _la Xeno. _One night with me, corporal Kilroy, and you will never see the pleasures of this world the same again._"_

Kilroy struggled to keep a straight face, breaking into a sputter of laughter. Shaking her head, she muttered, "Goddammit Scuba." Looking around the room, Scubaman saw Ballystix staring over at them, laughing silently with his eyes. Atlanton was sitting down on the bench across the room, grinning at them. DSM next to her whispered something, causing both of them to burst into laughter. Zim on the other hand was regarding the Latino with an approving glimmer in her eyes, brazenly eyeing the man up and down.

"Why is she laughing? I am being serious here", Scubaman deadpanned, spreading his arms in feigned puzzlement. Pulling her other boot off, Kilroy spoke up, "Get out of those clothes, specialist Scubaman! We have post-op drinks to get to and I'm not about to wait around for your lazy ass."

Turning over to Zim, Scubaman puckered his lips and gave a smug grin at the gunner. "Oh yeah, now we are talking! The corporal is being quite commanding. _El Zorro_ can appreciate a lady take charge." Zim barked up a small laugh and retorted, "El Zorro my ass! That bod of yours is the only thing you've got going for yourself!" Turning away towards the exit, the German slung her bag over her shoulder. Stopping at the door, she looked back towards Scuba, gesturing for the man to turn around. His feet close together, Scuba complied with tiny steps, sticking out his ass. Zim narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips together approvingly. Lifting her eyes to meet Scuba's, she sent him a wetly smacking flying kiss and strode out of the locker room.

Turning to Kilroy, Scuba lifted his eyebrows, "Corporal, I think I just got sexually harassed." Everyone in the locker room burst into laughter, Scuba looking around the squad in feigned puzzlement, the gag never ending, always along for the joyride.


	13. Chapter 12: Looking up

Chapter 12: Looking up

Hustling and bustling filled the cafeteria as lunch time hit the XCOM base. Renzol sat at the end of one of the long tables, away from the rest of the troops. For the first time in days, she had a proper appetite for food and was positively devouring the boiled potatoes topped off with meatball sauce and a hefty side of salad. Across from her, Atlanton sat down on the other side of the table and gave the rocketeer an amused look.

"I take it the operation went well?" the Aussie engineer remarked, taking a bite out of her sandwich. Renzol washed a mouthful of potato and meatball down with a big gulp of milk and gave her lips a wipe with a napkin. "Yeah. It felt good to be out there after..." The rocketeer's voice trailed off for a moment, before continuing, "You know. It felt good." Returning her attention to the food, she pushed the dark thoughts off her mind.

Atlanton put down her utensils and leaned back against her chair, "Yep, I definitely know what you mean. I just got back into rotation a couple days ago, and it was like I'd forgotten what a goddamn sectoid looks like!" Atlanton regarded Renzol with an affectionate look. She had been really worried for the small rocketeer after the alien troop ship operation and the loss of Frag, but it looked like she was starting to feel a lot better. Looking up from her food, Renzol kept the small talk going, "How did the poker game go?"

Atlanton had been excited to join the weekly poker game down in Scubaman's and Orgun's party box. This week, the duo had organized play-offs for the different rooms where the winners would advance to the finals held at their dwelling. The prize pool in the finals would be composed of the entry fees from all of the participants in all of the rooms, totaling up to quite an impressive pile of cash. Renzol hadn't participated as she had no interest in gambling, but the young engineer had managed to make her way into the finals.

Atlanton reached over her shoulders and tightened up her blonde ponytail, answering with a remorseful voice, "Aaah, it was a complete and total bust. I was the first to drop out. Goddamn Awo and his bluffs." Renzol looked up at her friend and asked in surprise, "Awo, from Foogleman's room? I thought Foogle would've made it to the final."

Atlanton let out a sharp laugh, almost bordering on mocking. Shaking her head, she scolded Renzol in an amused tone, "She's not some inhumane machine or a goddess who can do everything perfectly, Renzol-dear. I know you look up to her but damn. She's just another regular hard-ass bitch." Renzol felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Continuing their lunch in silence, the young women were saved from the awkward atmosphere by Scubaman laying his behind down in the chair next to Renzol. "Well, well, well, what do we have here if not two young, lovely ladies. Atlanton, your hair is as lovely as ever I see. Renzol, your eyes make the poet in me go astray with expressions for thine beauty", the infantryman flattered the two female operatives. The red returned to Renzol's cheeks, but Atlanton snorted in contempt. "You, a poet? Please Scubaman, you couldn't recite a line if your life depended on it."

Straightening his back, Scubaman summoned a distant look into his eyes, stretching one arm out in front of him and placing the other one on his heart, articulating in a horrific British accent, "To be, or not to be with me? 'Twas the question." Atlanton burst into a loud cackle of a laugh, and Renzol smiled quietly at her food. Returning from his jest, Scubaman turned towards Renzol with a smile, "That was some badass rocketing on the op, Renzol. I'd have you covering my back over Orgun any day." The flushing on Renzol's cheeks deepened as she muttered a thank you to the cheerful Latino.

The operation had been a massive success. The squad consisting of Kilroy, Foogleman, Kungtotte, Scubaman, Medve and Renzol herself had assaulted the rooftop of a Japanese high-rise under construction in Sapporo. A swarm of floaters had attacked them right after landing, and Renzol had secured the squad's flank with a rocket, allowing the rest of them to capitalize on the enemy in disarray. The battle had taken less than two minutes as the XCOM operatives had swept the enemy off the building in a display of unified squad tactics, Renzol playing a key part in the operation.

Just thinking about the mission made Renzol's smile widen. Glancing up from her plate, she saw Orgun approach their location on the other side, crying out in feigned hurt, "How can you say that Scuba? You haven't even BEEN on a mission with me yet!" The Irishman set his tray down next to Atlanton, turning to the woman with a mournful look, "He thinks he's so funny, but the words, they hurt. Oh how they always hurt."

Orgun was starting to look a lot more like himself after the time he'd spent in medbay since the disastrous operation in Brazil. Multiple stomach lavages and various other medical procedures had been required to purge the acid from his system, and it had left him weak and in need of rehabilitation before he could return to duty. The rocketeer had proclaimed himself the lab rat of XCOM, discovering the dangers of acid himself and saving others from it. And indeed, the studies on the actual effects the substance had in a human's body had led to some new developments in the medical approaches and treatments of any future cases. And as Orgun liked to tell everyone personally: "If you ever get acided, stay the fuck put and don't ever move."

Finishing her meal, Renzol ignored the squabble that was fast developing between Scubaman and Orgun, the duo always in a perpetual motion of gibes and jests. The tiny rocketeer got up from the table, picking up her tray and turning to Atlanton. "I'll see you later, I have to go submit my post-op report", Renzol told her friend. Turning to the duo of rascals, Renzol gave them a small nod as a goodbye, but neither even noticed her as the retorts and gibes got ever more heated between the two of them. Atlanton waved her goodbye and with that, Renzol took off towards the front of the cafeteria to return her dishes.

* * *

><p>Medve was sitting in his new chair in his new room, staring blankly at the new stack of papers on his new desk. The room wasn't exactly massive, but large enough to accommodate a bunk, a writing desk, a chair for the desk and a closet. It should've felt like luxury after the shared rooms of rank and file, but instead it just made Medve feel uneasy. Fidgeting around in his chair, the big man instinctively reached for the carton of cigars on the table. Realizing what he was doing, Medve let out a deep sigh and pulled his hand back, running it over his bald head.<p>

The brass of XCOM had been revamped in the past few weeks, and Medve was the first of a new line of lieutenants. With the new rank came new privileges and responsibilities, and the ex-SWAT wasn't sure how to take it. He did have experience in leading a squad back in SWAT and during XCOM operations, but he had never been involved in the actual chain of command outside of the field. Even leading men out on the field didn't come exactly naturally to Medve; he was a man of few words and coming up with inspirational speeches or profound actions to inspire courage in people took a lot out of him.

Turning his gaze back to the stack of paperwork on the desk, the gunner propped his elbows on the table and crossed his hands below his chin. _This job should've fallen to you, Frag. How did you lead us with such ease? How did you make everyone believe in you just by your mere presence?_

With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, Medve pulled the stack of papers closer and begun his painstaking work.


	14. Chapter 13: Pure terror

Chapter 13: Pure Terror

The sun was setting down in Johannesburg, South Africa. The sounds of gunfire filled the air at the city's central train terminus as Cell hosed suppressive fire through the railcar. The floaters hiding on the other side of the carriage were disregarding the XCOM operatives assaulting them, gunning down civilians mercilessly.

"We have to do something!" shouted Atlanton, the young Australian operative crossing to the other side of the railcar, pulling out a grenade ready to support an assault on the floaters. A deep, blood-curdling howl emanated from the back of the train yard, freezing the engineer in place. From across the yard, she could see a horde of four monstrous creatures climbing over railcars, rushing towards the XCOM squad. With chitin of deep purple and tiny eyes glowing a faint orange, the insect-like creatures clattered forwards at incredible speed on four long, deadly claws.

"Oh my god what the fuck is this!?" screamed Atlanton in horror at the sight approaching them. "Come on, form a line! We have to hold them off!" came the shout from Toothcake, the female assault getting out into the open to get a clear shot at the approaching chryssalids, Ballystix joining her side, shoulder to shoulder.

Atlanton took off, crossing over to the next railcar, pulling the pin from her AP grenade on the move. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the chryssalids get caught in the bright flash of a flashbang, sending them scampering in four different directions. The shotguns of Toothcake and Ballystix roared, and the front-runner dropped down to the ground in a heap of cracked chitin.

Hitting the corner of the next railway carriage, to her horror Atlanton saw one of the creatures run towards her position. Stopping at the corner on the other side of the carriage, the creature rose on its rear claws and impaled a hapless man with its front ones. The civilian let out a pitiful squeal as bloodied claws burst out of his back, the shock no doubt putting an end to his misery within seconds. The chryssalid pulled the man close, spewing saliva into its victim's mouth. To make matters even worse, four more floaters barreled into sight from behind the railcars, howling in their muffled voices, plasma carbines sending a hail of energy towards the engineer. Tossing the grenade around the corner at the swarm of enemies, Atlanton pulled behind the corner and pressed herself against the carriage, covering herself from the blast.

To her left, she saw the squad desperately battle on. Toothcake and Cell were pulling back from the railway carriage and out into the open, shotgun blasting buckshot and SAW spewing bullets at the enemy. Ballystix was trying to cross over to support Atlanton, a barrage of plasma from between the railcars striking the man down to the ground. With a determined grimace on his face, the assault dragged himself towards a telephone pole with a large concrete base around it, taking cover from the plasma fire striking all around him, filling the air with gusts of soil and fine concrete dust. From further down the line, Atlanton could hear the echoes of the battle Awo, Hypergeek and DSM were waging against the massive, overwhelming force of aliens. Atlanton turned towards Ballystix, ready to support her brother-in-arms.

Then the tide of the battle turned, from crashing waves into an insurmountable tsunami. From between the railcars, the man she had seen die just moments ago shuffled out into the open. Trails of blood ran down from his mouth, face frozen in a horrific mask of agony, dead eyes staring off into the distance. His overalls were soiled red from the two gaping holes in his chest, yet the man still moved, some unknown force driving him on. Growling in a low voice, the man made his way towards Ballystix, still pinned down behind the telephone pole. Further down the line, Atlanton could see multiple shuffling figures emerge from the other railway carriages, the rest of the XCOM operatives pulling back in the other direction, leaving her and Ballystix cut off.

Backing up, Atlanton fired her assault rifle at the zombie. The bullets sunk into the dead man's shoulder, only causing him to sway a little, still shuffling towards the pinned Ballystix. Retreating towards the back of the carriage, Atlanton cupped a hand around her mouth, shouting at the assault, "Get over here, I'll cover you!" Rounding into the back of the railcar, Atlanton pulled a high explosive grenade from her rigging, pulling the pin off and stepping around the corner.

The three floaters holding Ballystix down were taking cover behind a forklift, firing their plasma carbines through the gap in-between the railcars. Tossing her HE grenade, Atlanton screamed, "_NOW!"_ The grenade exploded, sending one of the floaters down to alien Hell, and Ballystix darted out from behind the telephone pole. Plasma flying in the air, the assault ducked and weaved his way through the open battle field, dashing past the zombie, its arms flailing after the operative. Turning around mid-run, Ballystix fired his shotgun at the corpse, sending a spray of blood into the dusky air.

Turning back to cover against the floaters, Atlanton readied her rifle. A plasma barrage struck the corner of the railcar, causing her to jerk back. Turning her head, Atlanton saw Ballystix take cover next to her, the engineer raising her voice to be heard over the sounds of the battle filling the air, "You kill that thing, I'll cove-"

The young operative was cut off as a floater barreled its way to the corner of the railcar. From point-blank range, the high energy barrage from its carbine tore Atlanton's face apart, burning through her skull and sending the woman crashing into the ground. With widening eyes, Ballystix turned around, trying to get away from the floater, muttering a repeated denial in a low, panicked voice. Rushing around the corner, the assault scrambled into the open embrace of the zombie, his muttered denials turning into shrieks of horror as the dead man sank its teeth into his flesh.

* * *

><p>"NO! Jesus Christ- fuck, NO!" Awo shouted, a hard, cold knot twisting at the pit of his stomach. Ballystix was screaming at the end of the train yard, the dead man tearing into his artery, pushing the assault into the ground. Toothcake was lying on the ground next to Hypergeek, bleeding her life's blood into the dusty ground as the day's last rays of sunlight cast long shadows on the train yard.<p>

The chryssalids were long gone, having disappeared into the shadows between the railway carriages, preferring the easy meat littered around the train yard that didn't fight back. The XCOM squad had been deployed to save lives, but right now, all Awo could think of was keeping the rest of his people safe.

"Fall back! We have to fall back goddammit!" the infantryman shouted, retreating to the back of the nearby railcar, reloading his shotgun frantically. Cell was stuck behind a telephone pole, spraying suppressive fire at the floater that had taken Toothcake's life, covering for Hypergeek who was huddled next to her. The engineer was staring at Toothcake's body, his voice panicked as he muttered to himself in French. Looking up towards the end of the yard, the Belgian screamed out, "We have to help Ballystix! He's still alive!"

Awo clenched his teeth together and raised his voice into a commanding roar, "He's as good as dead! God-fucking-dammit get your ass back in the fight Hypergeek! FALL BACK! NOW!" Not waiting for an answer, Awo turned around, running into the back of the line of railcars. Chryssalids were darting in-between the railway carriages further to his right, moving from shadow to shadow. Their chilling howls filled the air as darkness fell upon the train yard. The sound of an explosion signaled Hypergeek's and Cell's retreat, covered by the engineer's last HE grenade. Turning back to his squad, Awo saw the two troopers running from telephone pole to telephone pole, dodging plasma fire from the floaters with a chryssalid on their heels, the creature steadily gaining ground on them.

"Over here!" the shout from DSM rang in the air, the woman signaling to Hypergeek and Cell from behind the last telephone pole on the line, scrambling to reload her shotgun. The chryssalid was right on their heels, ready to pounce and wipe the squad off the face of the earth. A zombie was trailing behind it, and another one shambled into view from between the railcars close to Awo, headed towards DSM.

The former police officer took the shot, spraying the dead woman's brains out into the nightfall. "GET DOWN!" he shouted, Hypergeek and Cell hitting the deck as they came dashing past the telephone pole, scrambling for their lives. Awo fired his shotgun, and the chryssalid reared from the impact. Wheeling over on the ground, Cell fired her SAW from an awkward angle, nailing the chryssalid with a short burst, sending the bug toppling over its rear claws, lifeless as the zombie behind it. Moving from behind the telephone pole to make room for her squadmates, DSM dashed across the open ground to the railway carriage in front of Awo, firing at the remaining zombie with her shotgun, sending it stumbling backwards. Getting up to a kneeling position and readying his rifle, Hypergeek nailed the corpse in the back of its head, finally laying the dead man to his final rest.

From the shadows on his right Awo saw two chryssalids approach, the predators finally tired of playing around, clattering towards the railcar DSM was hiding behind. Shouting a warning to the gunner Awo pulled over to the right, making room at the end of the flatbed railcar he was taking cover behind, "To me! All of you, move your goddamn asses NOW!"

DSM took off, the chryssalids bursting through the railcar she had been hiding behind. One of the floaters sent out a salvo of plasma at the scout, but the woman shifted her weight from one foot to the other, side-stepping the lethal barrage. Hypergeek and Cell followed, a flurry of plasma striking the telephone pole, sparing the engineer's life.

The enemy kept on charging, a chryssalid coming in from the right followed closely by a floater swaying unstably in the air, propelled by its roaring jets. Awo stepped out from behind the railcar, striking the chryssalid from range with buckshot, slowing the creature's assault. Walking towards the approaching monster, Awo pumped his shotgun. Meeting the horrifying thing head-on, Awo sent the bug crashing into the crates on the open railcar with a resounding thump of his shotgun. Turning to his left, he was greeted by the second chryssalid, jumping to the top of the flatbed, its insect-like eyes glowing orange in the dark of the twilight.

Frantically, Awo started to pump his shotgun. _Fuck me_, the thought flashing across his mind as the creature pounced on him. The night around him lit up as the muzzle of Hypergeek's assault rifle flared behind him, sending a burst of bullets into the creatures body, penetrating the chitin and sending ichor spilling all over Awo. A salvo of high energy flew past his head, causing Awo to duck into the midst of the chryssalid carcasses.

The loud chatter of Cell's SAW filled the air as she hosed down fire on the three floaters advancing from the left. Scrambling up and over the bodies of the chryssalids, Awo re-oriented himself behind a pile of logs to the left of the railcar, shouting into the night, "Dig in boys and girls! This is the end of the line, one way or the other!" To his right, DSM let out a savage scream as a floater dropped down into the ground. Pulling his pistol, Awo dropped another on the left as Cell shouted for cover, reloading her machine gun.

With only two floaters left, the aliens exchanged a perplexed look with each other as the humans inexplicably continued to fight. Seeing the moment of victory come, Awo jumped forwards, screaming to his squad, "Screw that order! Push up, don't let these fucks get away!" Firing his shotgun, he rattled one of the floaters. A precise burst from Hypergeek's assault rifle dropped the other one and Cell hosed a massive stream of bullets into the night, laying the last enemy down.

And then the train yard was silent, draped in a blessed veil of darkness, concealing the horrors of the battle field.

* * *

><p>The orange lights illuminated the corridors of the XCOM base, a low humming of the electrical systems within the walls giving the facility its own unique silence. Turned down for the night, the lights only provided some illumination, leaving regular intervals of dark shadows in the metallic hallways. Renzol walked down the long corridor, her face emotionless, eyes staring off into the distance. She didn't know where she was. It could've been anywhere, though the rough, unpolished walls and lack of facilities pointed towards the new, unfinished levels deeper underground. Coming to a halt in-between the lights, Renzol leaned against the cold metal wall.<p>

People had gathered in the break room to honor the memory of the fallen operatives. Awo had been leading the ceremony, drunk off his mind. Renzol had stayed for a while, hanging close to the door. But it had all been too much for the rocketeer, and she had quietly withdrawn into her room.

Even her own bunk hadn't given Renzol any respite as the dead kept on haunting her. Lying down in her bed, she'd kept seeing Atlanton's face, upside-down as her blonde hair hung towards the ground, leaning over from her bunk, grinning at Renzol. She had wept long and hard, her tiny frame shaken by violent sobs. After the tears had died down, she couldn't fall asleep, seeing Atlanton's face every time she closed her eyes.

And so here she was, wandering around the corridors of the underground complex, aimlessly. Seeing the lights go by, one after another, Renzol drowned herself in the simple visuals. She didn't want to think. She couldn't think. Closing her eyes for longer than it took to blink wasn't an option. So she just walked, ever so slowly, seeing the lights go by, seeing the shadows go by. One always followed the other, but to Renzol, it was all the same; just something to fill her empty mind.

Coming to the cavernous opening in the middle of the level, Renzol regarded the access lift with distant curiosity. She had come to the lower levels after all, though she had no recollection of getting on the lift. Walking up to the huge construction, the intercom buzzed to life as a voice came through: "You ready to go back up? Just make sure no one hears of this all right? I'm not supposed to let just anybody wander around here." Renzol didn't respond, staring up into the huge shaft drilling through the earth as the lift creaked loudly. The machinery below her hummed steadily as it came to life and the huge plateau began its slow ascent. The sides of the access lift shaft were reinforced with huge metal bars, but the bedrock still showed through. Rows of steadily blinking lights filled each four sides of the shaft, and Renzol turned her eyes to the lights as the lift slowly made its way upwards.

The massive lift came to a halt at the top, and Renzol saw the silhouette of a figure stare at her quizzically through the window of a yellow shipping container that had been turned into a construction office. Making her way towards the corridor on the left, the rocketeer noted indignantly that she was now keenly aware of where she was headed.

Walking down through the dimly lit corridor towards the sports halls, a new sound filled the quiet humming of the corridors. The steady sound of strikes landing on a punching bag. Renzol arrived at the junction and turned to the slightly narrower corridor of the sports section. Passing by the doors leading to the squash and tennis courts, passing by the gym and the showers, Renzol saw the door of the martial arts room wide open, bright light swarming into the corridor. Coming to a stop by the door, Renzol stared inside.

Foogleman was focused on the red punching bag, fists and knees striking at the hard material as the scout gave it her everything. Her fists and wrists were covered with layers of white tape. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail, strands of hair coming loose and sticking to her face, framing her sharp features. Sweat glimmered on her dark skin, brow furrowed in deep concentration. She was wearing navy blue sweatpants and a white tank top with the nickname LOCKDOWN embroidered across the front, courtesy of Kilroy and Drake. Her sneaker-clad feet bounced her lightly up and down as the woman released another flurry of strikes on the inanimate enemy.

Left, right, left. The strikes landed on the punching bag. Spinning around, Foogleman landed a vicious roundhouse kick on target, jumping to the side as the bag came in hard, swinging back at her. Wiping her brow with the back of her wrist, Foogleman turned towards Renzol. Something in the scout's eyes made the rocketeer come forward, stepping into the brightly lit room.

Foogleman placed her hands on her hips, taking deep breaths as the rocketeer approached. Her face was a mask, not betraying any emotions. Renzol came to a halt in front of the sergeant, staring up at her face. For a moment, no one said anything. Ponytail swinging, Foogleman turned her head towards the still-swaying punching bag. Grabbing onto the bag, the scout uttered, "You want to hold this for me?" With a nod, Renzol went to the other side, taking a hold of the punching bag, putting her weight behind it. Foogleman took a step backwards and took her fighting stance. With a low voice, she spoke:

"I won't hold back."


	15. Chapter 14: Bug hunt

Chapter 14: Bug hunt

Author's note: This is a totally revamped version of the Newfoundland council mission since the way the mission went down in Live and Impossible was a *little* gamey to say the least. Consider it my interpretation of what the mission was meant to be like.

* * *

><p>Snowflakes spiraled down from the heavens over a small fishing village in St. John's, Canada. The occasional gust of arctic winds sent the snow spinning wildly through the air before resuming its slow, peaceful descent. The illusion of a tranquil night was shattered by the blood-curdling howl of chryssalids echoing through the darkness.<p>

The squad of seven XCOM operatives were in a tight circular formation, backs to the center and weapons trained towards the night, slowly moving through a fishing market. The flashlights from their weapons illuminated abandoned stands filled with fish and fishing equipment, most of it spilled on the ground as the disaster had struck. A torn fishing net flapped lightly in the wind, settling down as the gust passed.

"This is some fucked up Scooby Doo shit right here", muttered Scubaman, his brand new XCOM-engineered laser rifle moving back and forth as the infantryman scanned the night for alien activity. "No joke", came the response from Kilroy, the assault holding the squad's rear with shotgun at the ready. A sharp clatter from between the stands caused her to take a sharp breath, jerking her weapon on target. Catching only the end of a dark shadow in her flashlight's cone, the clattering died down as the creature moved away from the squad, gone into the night.

"I wish these fucking bugs would just come at us", Merlin whispered to Foogleman next to her. Raising her voice, the woman spoke up, "Permission to scream 'fuck you you stupid fucking bugs' into the night sir?" Medve was at the head of the group, leading them on towards the docks as another howl pierced the night. "Permission denied", came the response from the officer in a deep voice, never taking his eyes off his sector.

Iku was in formation next to Medve, sniper rifle slung on his back and holding his pistol ready. In his other hand the sniper had a flashlight and he was using it to steady his aim at the wrist. Another chilling howl pierced the air, this time joined by another one. And another. Within moments, the night was filled with a cacophony of horrific howls. The clattering returned, instead this time, the sounds were getting louder.

"Here they come!" screamed Stoli, the engineer firing her shotgun into the night. The fishing market was illuminated with gunfire, lasers and wildly swinging cones of light as the chryssalids descended upon the squad from between the stands. Medve's SAW hosed bullets in a line, sending splinters of wood flying into the air as two chryssalids stumbled in front of the gunfire. A loud "_ooohhh yyeeeaaahh" _rang in the night as a grenade from Stoli followed, blowing the aliens and the hapless fishing stand to pieces.

"Fuck you you stupid fucking bugs!" screamed Merlin, the scarlet laser beam from her rifle piercing through a chryssalid, burrowing a hole straight through the creatures chitin and burning a hole into the stand behind it. The SMG model of the laser rifle, the shatterray, was sending out quick bursts of high-powered energy as Foogleman fought alongside Merlin. On the other side of the formation, Scubaman fired precise shots at the approaching enemy in quick succession, dispatching chryssalids one after the other.

And then the battle was over, done as quickly as it had begun. Several purple carcasses littered the wooden boards of the market's walkways and stands. Reloading one after the other, the squad prepared to move on. Taking a closer look at one of the carcasses lying on top of one of the stands for selling fish, Scubaman remarked, "Chryssalid soup, huh? Whatcha reckon boys and girls?"

"I reckon you get your ass back in formation lance corporal" came the answer from Medve, the lieutenant having zero tolerance for any antics when dealing with such an extremely dangerous enemy. In a spirited tone, Scubaman responded with a "_roger that"_ and the squad continued to move through the fishing market. The occasional howl still echoed in the night, but they were all off somewhere in the distance.

Emerging from between the last stands of the market, the squad came upon a burning two-story house, the wall on the market's side partially collapsed. Beyond the building, the glow of fire illuminated a massive whaling ship, crashed into the docks with huge holes in its hull. Medve signaled for the squad to secure the perimeter as he received new orders through his earpiece.

The squad spread out in front of the burning house and Scubaman walked up to a shark hanging from a wooden rack on the dockside. Leaning in closer, the man recoiled away from the fish, crying in a disgusted voice, "Holy goddamn tits of Mother Mary that stinks! Remind me to never try shark, that's fucking disgusting!" Joining the infantryman's side, Iku covered his nose and mouth with his arm. "That can't be right. My grandfather was a fisherman and I used to help him out as a kid. This isn't what spoiled fish smells like", the Japanese sniper remarked. Turning to his squadmate, Scubaman lifted an eyebrow and pulled on his best detective face, uttering in a low voice, "So would you say there's something…fishy going on here?" Iku gave the jokester an unimpressed look, pulling his rifle from his back and scanning towards the lower docks through the night vision scope.

Walking towards the ship, Medve spoke up, "Okay, let's investigate this ship. Scubaman and Stoli, get working on building a ramp into the ship from those splinters, rest of you keep watch." Everyone acknowledged the orders, Scuba and Stoli getting to work, picking up large planks littering the devastated area and hauling them over to the ship. The female engineer's blonde braid was hanging on her right shoulder, the strands of hair glowing faintly in the light of the fire, snowflakes getting caught in her fair hair. Bending over, the woman lifted her end of the plank. When nothing happened, she raised her eyes, long eyelashes catching a single snowflake in them.

Scubaman was staring at Stoli's face. Below her beanie, the engineer's cheeks were flushed red from the cold air. Her red lips were full and luscious, and the light blue of her eyes topped off what had to be a ten out of ten face on anyone's standards. The infantryman closed his eyes and let out a swooning, stuttering sigh, bending at the knees. Stoli grinned, lifting an eyebrow and speaking up, "Just grab that plank Scuba."

Scubaman obliged, letting out infatuated sighs from time to time, causing the woman to shake her head in amusement. It's not like she didn't know what a sight she was; quite the opposite, Stoli enjoyed the attention she got from most men and Scubaman's reactions and silly attempts to woo her always brightened her day.

With the makeshift ramp ready, the squad made their way into the ship, Foogleman taking point with Kilroy. Their flashlights illuminated what was an old and rusty whaling ship, with patches of black ice on deck and piles of snow gathering in the nooks and crannies of the ship. Moving past several containers full of frozen fish, the squad came to the middle of the ship where a large mast rose into the skies. Beyond the mast, their flashlights illuminated the cockpit of the ship, the windows partially covered in frost. Turning her light downwards, Foogleman looked into the open cargo space of the ship, crying out in surprise.

The cone of light illuminated a whale lying in the middle of the cargo space. The great sea monster was stained a purple hue, with orange spines sticking out from its body, multiple great holes in the creature pulsing slowly, emitting steam into the cold air. Kilroy and Medve joined Foogleman's side, the lieutenant lifting a hand to his earpiece, requesting new orders from central. Kilroy let out a low whistle and remarked to Foogleman, "I guess we found the source of the infestation."

One of the orifices in the nest started to pulse rapidly, and a chryssalid covered in clear goo scampered out into the world. Shouting in surprise, Foogleman and Kilroy brought their guns to bear on the creature. With startling speed the creature clambered up to its claws and started to run off into the night, the shotgun blast and laser from the shatterray ending the new-born alien's life. "Baby wanna play, huh?" muttered Kilroy, somewhat concerned by the vigor at which the creatures seemed to enter this world.

Turning to the squad, Medve relayed them new orders, "Stoli, you go prepare ropes on the side of the ship. We're getting the hell out of here ASAP. Foogleman, central will come through on the line to give you instructions on how to activate the ship's transponder in the cockpit. Central will use it to pinpoint an air strike for one of the Council's air bases to wipe these bugs out. Everyone else, keep an eye out for any bugs." Glancing into the cargo hold, the officer added, "Especially down there."

Breaking into a jog, Foogleman made her way towards the cockpit of the ship, careful to avoid slipping on the icy surface. Hanging her shatterray from its strap, she swung the weapon around to the small of her back. Walking up the few steps into the cockpit, she was greeted with an eerily empty space. The captain's hat was lying on the floor, next to a cracked coffee mug. The liquid had frozen to a dark stain, indistinguishable from the rest of the ice on the floor. Making her way over to the control panel, the voice of chief-engineer Shen came through on the line, instructing her through the process.

Gunshots and the fizzle of lasers echoed from outside as more chryssalids emerged into the world. The shout of Scubaman reached Foogleman's ears, "More from behind!" The sounds of battle intensified as the scout worked on the control panel. "How much longer Foogle?" came the shout from Medve, the man leaning into the cockpit. The sounds of battle had died down, the enemy repelled for now. Foogleman didn't look up from the panel, responding to the officer, "I'm almost done. You guys start leaving, I'll catch up." Pulling back outside, Medve was shouting for his people to grapple down the side of the ship.

Foogleman cursed under her breath as the control panel was loading the program. It was taking longer than Shen had expected, and the scout glanced up. Through the half-frozen windows she saw the operatives swing themselves over the side of the ship, sliding down the two ropes Stoli had set up. With everyone gone, Medve looked back towards the cockpit. Foogleman gave him a thumbs up and the officer slung his SAW to his back, climbing over the edge. Looking down, Foogleman urged for the program to finish loading.

After ten or so more seconds, the control panel let a small dinging noise and the screen indicated a successful activation of the transponder. Foogleman let out a sharp breath and looked up, ready to follow her squad. The scout froze in place.

Through the window, a chryssalid stared at the woman, its predatory insect-like eyes glowing eerily in the night. Foogleman dived to her left as the chryssalid crashed in through the window, sending shards of frozen glass flying all over the cockpit, chinking as they fell on the control panel and the ground. Wheeling herself around on all fours, the scout searched for solid foothold on the icy floor, feet shuffling back and forth as she slid further away from her squad. Regaining her balance, the scout lifted her hands from the floor but stayed in a crouched stance, ready to pounce. The chryssalid hadn't been any slower, clambering up from a tangle of claws, staring at the scout. Its eerily humanoid-like arms ended in clawed fingers, twitching in anticipation of the first meal of its life.

Foogleman stared down the chryssalid, not daring to make a move. Slowly, she inched her right hand closer to the sawn-off shotgun on her hip. She didn't know if other chryssalids had come up, and she didn't dare take her eyes off the horrific creature staring down at her. From a distance, the sounds of gunfire reached her ears. Tensing her body, the scout made the first move.

Pulling the sawn-off shotgun from its holster, the scout dashed forwards. The chryssalid pounced on her, lifting its front claws, ready to impale her against the floor of the cockpit. The shotgun in Foogleman's hand exploded, sending the creature reeling on its rear claws, front ones swinging wildly at the air as the bug tried to maintain its balance. Continuing her movement, Foogleman dropped the weapon and slid under the swinging claws of the creature, grabbing onto the terminal on her left. Lifting herself up, the scout vaulted out of the broken window, her heart beating a thousand beats per minute, adrenaline rushing through her body.

Hitting the icy deck of the ship, the scout maintained her balance. Dashing towards the edge of the ship, the scout moved as fast as she could. Stepping on the edge, a thought flashed in Foogleman's mind, _Go hard or go home._ Tensing the muscles in her leg, the scout leapt.

Swinging her arms to gain maximum distance to the creature no doubt chasing her, Foogleman saw the battle further down the docks. The flashlights were swinging wildly as the squad made a fighting retreat against the swarm. Red lines of light pierced the night as Scubaman and Merlin fired their laser rifles, and Foogleman could see multiple shadows move about the shipping containers. As she reached the peak of her jump, the scout turned her eyes towards the ground. She must have been twenty meters up in the air, and the fall would no doubt incapacitate her if not executed perfectly. Eyes peeled wide open and blood rushing in her ears, Foogleman clenched her teeth together as she began her descent.

Striking the snowy dock, the scout bent her knees, the shock rattling her teeth. Continuing her motion with a roll, she came to her feet, stumbling a little before continuing in full sprint. In front of her, the dock came up in a two meter high wall, with stairs further to her left. Jumping up, the scout pulled herself up to the next level, grunting as she struggled to keep her breathing going hard. Scrambling forwards, she took off in full force again, the lights of her squad now at the end of the dock.

"There she is!" came a shout from further up as her team spotted the scout running for her life. Foogleman didn't dare look back. Giving it all she had, the scout ran on, the chilling air burning her lungs, her legs screaming at her to slow down. From a shipping container to her right, she saw a chryssalid burst out from the shadows. Shifting her weight to the left, Foogleman dashed behind another shipping container, never slowing down, not daring to slow down. Jumping over the crates and piles of fishing equipment littering the docks, the scout made her way to the end of the docks.

The squad was up at the Skyranger LZ, Medve signaling for his people to get in. Scubaman was firing his laser rifle into the docks from the top of the stairs, a shout from Medve causing the man to turn his head around. "Come on Foogle, you can do it!" the infantryman shouted, firing once more into the docks before turning around, running for the Skyranger. Foogleman reached the stairs, loping them up two at a time, her breathing breaking down, her legs ready to give out. Reaching the top, she saw the Skyranger ramp start to close through eyes stinging with sweat. Scubaman was shouting at her, urging her on, gesturing wildly with his hand for the scout to run over. Foogleman pushed her head down and swung wildly with her arms, propelling herself to a final sprint, jumping over the half-closed ramp and crashing into Scubaman.

The scout and infantryman toppled over onto the floor of the Skyranger. The jets roared as the aircraft took off, ramp still closing. The claws of a chryssalid burst into the aircraft as the creature giving her chase reached them, all too late for the newborn alien. Clawing furiously at the ramp, the creature's head came to view. With a resounding clang, the ramp closed, cutting the bug's front claws off, sending them rolling into the floor of the Skyranger.

Panting wildly against Scubaman's chest, Foogleman laid her head down. Her whole body was on fire, face and back soiled with sweat. Scubaman was laughing wildly, the rest of the squad cheering around them as the aircraft flew off into the night. "I could get used to this, you know", came the jest from Scubaman, giving the scout's back a soft caress. Foogleman closed her eyes, too tired to respond to the jest.

Too happy to be alive to care.


	16. Chapter 15: Beatdown

Chapter 15: Beatdown

"Come on, keep your guard up!" the shout of Foogleman rang in the martial arts room as Daishi and Zim were locked in a duel in the middle of the room. Kickboxing gloves in hand, the female operatives circled each other, ready to pounce at the sight of any openings. Zim dashed forwards, sending two strikes at the scout's abdomen. Crouching slightly, Daishi blocked the hits with her arms, catching the gunner in the shoulder with a counter attack.

Pulling back with a grunt, Zim was scolded by their instructor, "What the hell are you doing Zim? Don't overcommit!" Eyeing the pair with calculating eyes, Foogleman added, "And Daishi, keep your back straight! You look ridiculous squatting like that, you're not a goddamn hunchback!" Correcting her posture, the Canadian went on the offensive. Using her superior reach, she jabbed at Zim's face, causing the German to back up, covering her face with her arms.

"Using your reach, I like that! Keep it up, push that advantage!" came the encouragement from Foogleman as she urged the two operatives on. At the side of the room, Drake and Kilroy sat against the wall with Wolfer and Vherid. Drake had her left leg stretched out in front of her, a weight strapped to the ankle as she kept lifting it from the ground, exercising the still-healing limb. "What did I tell ya, Daishi's got this one in the bag!" Kilroy exclaimed cheerfully as her candidate kept on pushing the advantage. Drake was grimacing in pain, sweat dripping down her brow as she struggled to lift her leg one more time. Finally giving up, she laid her leg on the floor and rested her head against the wall, letting out a heavy breath. Turning her attention back to the fight, Drake witnessed the end of the match.

Zim ducked under the assault from the scout, stepping forwards and bringing her fist hard into the tall woman's gut, causing Daishi to double over in pain. Falling to one knee, she let out a pained grunt, gasping for air. Zim jumped into an upright position, lifting her arms over her head and letting out an excited _"Yeah!"_ The onlookers cheered the victor, and Zim took a victory pose, crossing her arms behind her head and sticking out her hips to the side. Her dark hair was swinging in a ponytail and her cheeks were flushed from the exercise. Drake turned to Kilroy with raised eyebrows, and the erred assault turned away from her friend, glancing cluelessly around the room.

Foogleman stepped over to Daishi, helping the defeated Canuck to her feet. "That was good, but you can't let your guard down like that. Pressing on was the right choice, but be smart about it next time." Daishi acknowledged the advice with a smile, a nod and a _"yes, sergeant"_, turning to Zim. The scout took the woman in a brief embrace and uttered a wholehearted congratulation before leaving the mat, headed for the back of the hall to stretch out her muscles.

"Good work Zim. You might not be the quickest or the strongest, but you've got great intuition and feel for the fight. That can take you far", the sergeant commented, sending Zim off to stretch as well with a pat on the back. Raising her voice, Foogleman summoned the next pair of trainees onto the mat and from the other side of the hall, the two Germans Renzol and Stoli headed towards the ring. Wolfer, the South African assault with impressive biceps and a true rock of a jaw spoke up, "My money's on the Babe." The strong man flexed his right bicep, causing the tattoo of the assault's insignia to stretch along with the muscle. Vherid regarded the duo of female operatives approaching and responded, "No way man, Renzol's gonna take this one. Just look at her eyes. You don't wanna mess with that."

The comment made Drake look over at the approaching rocketeer. The tank top she was wearing hugged her slender frame, displaying a strong torso and shoulders, though her arms were not quite there. Her hair was cut shorter than before, just shy of reaching her chin. A sweatband held the blonde locks back from her face, and her hazelnut eyes were determined, cool wells. Drake turned to Kilroy, the assault regarding Renzol with an intense look. "This should be a good one", Kilroy commented and Drake turned back to the pair. To their left, Vherid and Wolfer agreed on the price of the bet and a slap of hands confirmed it, the two women now ready to fight.

Foogleman recounted the rules of the fight and with her go, the two operatives launched into the fight. Stoli took the initiative, her blonde ponytail bobbing up and down in rhythm with her impressive bust. Renzol blocked the tentative first strike. Another one followed and Renzol pulled back, lowering her arms from the block. Circling each other, both operatives waited for the other to make a move.

Stepping in, Renzol sent a jab at Stoli's head. The strike was blocked but another one followed, and then another one. Seeing the rocketeer's guard drop, Stoli came forward, sending a hard jab at her opponent's face. However, Renzol had anticipated the counter attack. With the bait taken, the small woman side-stepped the hit, sweeping her leg in and toppling Stoli over. Kneeling next to the engineer, Renzol tapped the woman gently at the back of the head, signaling she had the lethal strike.

The people on the side burst into applause, with Wolfer making his disappointment known with a loud curse. Foogleman was nodding her head in approval, Stoli rolling over on the ground, clearly upset to be beaten so soundly in such a short time. Renzol offered her hand to help the woman up but Stoli ignored the gesture, jumping up and stomping her way over to the door, headed straight for the showers.

Drake turned to Kilroy, tilting her head and commenting, "Impressive." Kilroy was smiling, staring at the rocketeer who was getting her comments from Foogleman. Under her breath, the assault muttered, "Maybe I was wrong after all." Drake lifted her eyebrows quizzically and let out a small "_hmmm?"_ but her friend didn't follow up on the comment, instead turning over to taunt Wolfer.

Drake turned her attention back to the weight on her leg, getting to work on the rehabilitation, eager to be back in shape and on the mat herself.


	17. Chapter 16: Comrades

Chapter 16: Comrades

The night was humid and warm in Chihuahua, Mexico. The carcasses of sectoids and floaters littered the asphalt of the car park in front of a local bar & grill. The battle between Earth's defense forces and the alien invaders had been a short and brutal one. The XCOM squad deployed onto the field had swept through the urban battle field, dispatching of the mixed force of aliens with ease.

"But did you wreck FOUR floaters with a single attack, Ding Dong?" Orgun boasted, leaning back on his bar stool. Four operatives were seated on one side of the square bar counter in the middle of the building, their backs to a wall blown open into the temperate Mexican night. Scubaman turned to Kilroy, shaking his head. "Can you believe this guy? He was just blowing up all the cars again and dares brag about the collateral damage!" the Latino jested, drawing a dismissive wave from Orgun. Kilroy gave the two boys an amused look and retorted, "Well either way, Foogle's still got this on lockdown. Eighteen kills thus far, that still leaves you one short Orgun." Foogleman glanced at them from the end of the counter, commenting in an amused tone, "Goddammit Kilroy, I told you I don't give a shit about this stupid game."

Turning to her friend, Kilroy slammed her fist on the counter and replied with exaggerated fervor, "Well I care about it! There's no way our room is gonna lose to these oafs! And with Drake out of action it's our DUTY to keep the good fight going!" Foogleman looked her friend in the eye, giving a dramatic sigh and resting her head against her hand, elbow propped on the counter. "Fine, eighteen kills it is. Foogle's amazing, praise the fembox, whoo", came the lackluster cheer from the scout, eliciting a snigger from Kilroy and smiles from the rascals. Getting up and moving over to her friend, Kilroy placed both hands on the scout's shoulders from behind and said with a grin, "That's the spirit! We'll show these idiots who the real A-team are!"

Orgun spoke up from the other end of the counter, the jest gone from his voice, replaced with remembrance and solidarity, "Even if you have Drake, at least we still got second place." Scubaman turned towards his friend, grabbing a hold of his shoulder with a smile. Foogleman looked over her shoulder at Kilroy, both smiling in memory of their deceased friend. Turning her eyes towards the men, Kilroy let out a deep sigh and responded in a serene tone, "Yeah. I'll give you that one."

A moment of silence passed over the group of operatives as they honored the memory of their fallen comrade. Looking up towards the parking lot, Scubaman broke the silence with a lifted arm and a shouted greeting as he beckoned for Hunterhr to join them. The private had been getting his post operation briefing from the squad leader Medve, and the African-American responded with a raised hand, making his way over to the counter.

Hunterhr was a quiet one, his face seemingly always in a gentle smile. Reaching the rest of the operatives, the man seated himself on the side of the counter that faced towards the parking lot. Scubaman chatted up the rookie in his casual, friendly manner, "That was some good work Hunter! Snagged yourself your first X-ray, huh? Always a good way to end your first mission." The dark skinned man smiled, closing his eyes and giving a small nod in acknowledgment. Not minding the quiet response, Scubaman carried on cheerfully, "Where did you serve again before joining our brilliant xeno-slaying machine? I don't think I ever asked you."

Hunterhr took a contemplative breath, giving his chin a gentle rub. After what seemed almost too long a pause to respond, he turned to Scubaman and answered, "I was a medic in the UN peacekeeping corps before enlisting into a humanitarian aid group working in the Democratic Republic of Congo." With a lift of his eyebrows, Scubaman let out a surprised whistle and Orgun next to him leaned on the counter, commenting enthusiastically, "Wow, that takes some serious balls. I hear that place is pretty fucked up." Foogleman and Kilroy uttered their agreement and Hunterhr just smiled a little, nodding his head in acknowledgment of the praise.

Amidst the chatter, Medve made his way over from the parking lot, the other rookie JBowles following closely behind. Foogleman turned towards the lieutenant, offering her knuckles up to the gunner, "Another smooth op big man. Good job leading the charge." Medve gave the scout's knuckles a bump and smiled at the praise. They'd been fighting side-by-side since day one and the amount of operations they'd gone on together was already lost to the lieutenant. Foogleman had become the officer's go-to right-hand gal on the field, always giving it her everything and ever reliable.

The squad spent the remaining few minutes chatting the night away, waiting for the Council's clean-up crew to arrive. It wasn't a long wait, and in good company the time seemed to pass by almost too quickly.


	18. Chapter 17: Girl talk

Chapter 17: Girl talk

Cheerful laughter and jeering filled the air at the barracks. Awo stumbled out of his room and into the corridor, turning around and shouting back into the room, "Goddamn it, why can he stay? He's got a dick the same as me!" The man was gesturing at Kungtotte, the sniper looking up from his book with a grin, lying down in his bunk above Foogleman's with his headphones on. "He's also a gentleman and not a pig like you!" came the cheerful response from Merlin, the temperamental woman standing in the middle of the room with hands on hips, leaning forwards with a sneer on her face. The jeer was followed by laughter from the rest of the girls in the room: Drake, Foogleman and Kilroy.

Awo shook his head, turning away from the room and starting down the corridor, muttering under his breath, "Every day with this goddamn shit..." Multiple shouts followed the man out into the corridor as the girls piled on: he's married, he showers every day, he respects the rules of the room, he appreciates us, he doesn't have ridiculously high impressions of himself... and so on.

With the man finally exiled out of the room, Merlin slammed the door shut and jumped on her bunk. It was located close to the door and below Awo's. Kungtotte's and Foogleman's bunk bed was next in line, with Drake's and Kilroy's located towards the back of the room. On the opposing wall, six closets lined the wall and at the very back of the room a simple wooden table stood against the wall, with two chairs on each of the three sides.

"You don't suppose we were too hard on him?" inquired Drake, propped up against the wall in her bottom bunk. Merlin let out a sharp bark of a laugh, crossing her arms behind her head. "That guy? Please, he's gonna have more fun with the boys anyway, we just did him a favor!" the fiery lady responded, dismissing Drake's concerns. Kilroy leaned over the edge of her bunk, her tone excited, "Come on over Merlin, I can barely see you from here! Let's get started." The Mexican crossed over, Foogleman pulling her feet up without taking her eyes off the magazine she was eyeing, making room for the infantrywoman. Merlin laid herself down across the bunk, propping her chin up by her hands, legs hanging over the edge.

Kilroy got into a sitting position, legs hanging over the edge of her bunk. Crossing her arms across her legs and leaning forwards, the woman proclaimed, "Okay, let's begin! First up, Wolfer. How hot is he, scale of one to ten, at least one reason. Go Drake!" The exotic assault mused for a moment before speaking up, "I'd say a solid seven. Great biceps, nice ass and a strong chin, though his face leaves a lot to be desired." Kilroy and Merlin responded with approving nods, Kilroy picking up after her friend, "I'd reckon a seven as well. Definitely dat ass that does it."

Merlin let out a small boo, unimpressed by the safe answer. "He's totally an eight. Those muscles, ah! To die for. And haven't you seen his confidence? Now that's how a REAL man acts, none of this namby-pamby bullshit you see these days!" the Mexican proclaimed. Kilroy uttered approvingly, nodding her head along. Turning to Foogleman, she inquired, "What about you, Foogs?"

The woman closed her magazine, laying it down on her chest. Giving her friend an unimpressed look, the scout commented, "You're all fucking retarded." The three others exclaimed in disapproval and surprise, Kilroy laying it on the scout, "Goddammit Foogle! You promised you'd play with us!" Foogleman looked around the three women with hard eyes and finally said, "I told you, you're all retarded! He's at MOST a four. Just a big hunk of meat, what's exciting about that?"

Foogleman's face turned into a smug grin as the rest of the women exploded into laughter, Drake exclaiming from the midst of it, "Ooooooh damn! Foogs is laying down the law!"

The conversation bounced back and forth, from evaluating other male operatives to female operatives, how much everyone wanted to get some r&r out of the base, where they'd go, what they'd do, what necessities the base lacked and so on. Through it all, Kungtotte kept his eyes on his novel, turning up the volume on his iPod a bit to hear as little of the conversation as possible, always the gentleman. Finally the conversation settled on the game of marry, fuck, kill.

"Okay so here's one for you", mused Drake while combing her hair. "Scuba, Medve and Awo", the assault concluded, drawing _ooohs_ and _aaahs _from the rest of the girls as they pondered their choices. Foogleman was the first to answer, "Fuck Awo, shoot Scuba and marry Medve." Kilroy raised her voice, demanding for a follow up on the answer. Mulling her tongue around in her mouth, Foogleman added, "Medve is reliable and there's no way I'd give Scuba the satisfaction of fucking him, so I guess that leaves the only option to shoot him." The others responded with laughs and giggles, Merlin taking up the mantle next.

"Marry Scuba, shoot Medve and fuck the everlasting fuck out of Awo!" exclaimed the lady cheerfully, drawing more laughter and exclamations of surprise from her friends. "Oh my, you really wanna do him huh?" laughed Kilroy, Merlin dismissing the assault with a wave of her hand and a smiling shake of her head.

"What about you, 'Roy?" came the inquiry from Drake, leaning over from her bunk to glance at her friend upstairs. Kilroy rubbed her shoulders pensively, wheeling her head back and forth while making indecisive noises. "Marry Medve, kill Awo and fuck Scuba", the woman finally answered, drawing laughs from the other women. "She actually wants to do him! Look at her face, she wants a piece of el Zorro!" Merlin taunted, laughing ever harder, tears rising to her eyes. Kilroy blushed a little bit, raising her arms up and defending herself, "Hey, maybe I'm a little bit curious okay? But it's not gonna happen, that'd make things hella weird!"

As if on cue, a knock came from the door, followed by the voice of the very person in question, "Ding dong! Anybody home?" The door pushed open, Scubaman stepping into the room with a smile on his face. All of the girls wheeled around, their voices exploding in a cacophony of denials to enter the room and orders to get the hell out. All except Merlin, who was holding onto her stomach and howling with laughter. Scubaman glanced around the room with a truly perplexed smile on his face.

Kilroy threw the first pillow. It was soon followed by Drake's hair brush and a shoe, and then another one, and soon the Latino was under fire by every single small object the girls had access to. Scubaman's expression turned panicky, his lower lip trembling a little as he muttered in a pitiful voice, "B-but…_el Zorro_…" Merlin's laughter intensified, the woman shaken by violent convulsions and Foogleman jumped up, sending her magazine fruitlessly flapping at the man, screaming, "Not this Zorro shit again! Get the hell out Scuba!" The man wheeled around and lifted his arms up, pretending to cry like a baby while running out of the room with tiny steps.

Foogleman dashed up to the door, slamming it shut and leaning back against it, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. The floor was littered with all sorts of items and the other girls were positively howling with laughter, Merlin having fallen down from the bunk, now rolling on the floor. Kilroy looked equal parts embarrassed and amused as tears ran down her cheeks, and Drake had her face buried in her hands as she tried to calm down.

Foogleman took a deep breath, calming herself down and remarked with a voice still slightly shaking with amusement, "Well, where were we?"


	19. Chapter 18: Inside

Chapter 18: Inside

Renzol sat on her bunk, feet on the ground and back straight, resting her hands on her knees. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was steady, the rocketeer deep in meditation. The operation had gone smoothly, a small crashed UFO in India and rookie Petete had been the only one to take a light wound from a seeker. Regardless, Renzol wasn't about to let go of her new-found habits that easily. Stability is key.

Going through the contact they'd had on the mission, Renzol visualized the situations in her mind. Did I need to fire a rocket here? Did I need to react differently? Where could I improve? She ran the different scenarios through in her mind, coming to the realization the mission had gone about as smoothly as it possibly could, though there was always room for improvement in the small things, such as faster reaction times and improved accuracy.

Turning her attention to her feelings, Renzol observed the emotions inside. She was calm. She was collected. Letting out a deep breath she thought to herself, _nothing to put in the Box._ Opening her eyes, the small rocketeer stretched her neck and shoulder muscles, slowly rolling her head around. As it so often did, the meditation made her think back to that night at the martial arts room.

She had helped sergeant Foogleman with her sparring deep into the night. The scout's words had been true: she definitely hadn't held back, and every muscle in Renzol's body had been sore by the end of it. They hadn't talked much, but as the sergeant had been getting ready to take her leave, Renzol had asked her something.

"_How do I become strong?"_ Foogleman had given the rocketeer an appraising look. The scout had thought long and hard about her answer, before finally telling Renzol this: _"You have to find out for yourself. If you're asking how to become like me, then I can't help you. I've always been like this, ever since I can remember. My father was an abusive drunk and when you go through enough shit in life, you steel yourself against it. It's become part of who I am, and I'm okay with it. I've had people call me a cold bitch and a heartless cunt and many other things but it's all part of me now. I couldn't tell you how it happened even if I tried. I've got no answers for you, Renzol. You'll have to figure it out for yourself."_

And so Renzol had begun meditating. The start had been tentative and fruitless, and giving up had seemed so easy. But little by little, the small rocketeer had grown with her daily exercises. It hadn't been much, but it had been something. And then she had found the Box.

It had been another night of despair and anguish as the faces of her fallen comrades and friends had haunted her. Renzol had tried to calm herself down through meditation and after hours of sitting still, she had visualized the Box. Into the Box, she had poured everything. The feelings of inadequacy, the feelings of helplessness, the sorrow of loss and all of her weaknesses. It had left her calm, and sleep had finally come.

After that, she had visualized the Box every day. The stored feelings always returned, but with less pain. And with every passing day, those returning feelings were fainter and fainter. Sometimes she worried about the Box bursting open one day and drowning her in everything that was inside. But then she put that feeling in the Box. Sometimes she giggled at the absurdity of the notion. How many fears of the Box bursting open had she put in the Box? Did it contain dozens of those emotions, or was it always the same one that just got out?

Returning from her musings, Renzol got up with a relieved sigh. Checking her watch, she noted that it was almost time to get to her training. She'd asked Orgun to give her extra live explosive training during the evening. The boisterous rocketeer had been reluctant, muttering something about his plans for the night. However, Renzol had insisted and the man had agreed, his plans apparently not that important after all. Renzol smiled at the memory of that small victory. Not so long ago, she wouldn't have had the guts to ask him let alone insist.

Moving to her closet through the empty room, Renzol got to packing her bag for all of the training gear she would need. The war was long, and one doesn't get better simply by lying around.


	20. Chapter 19: Battlestar

Chapter 19: Battlestar

Daishi strode into her room with DSM on her heels. The South African scout had been waiting for her friend in the hangar bay following her return from the operation in Beijing. It may have been a regular abduction mission, but many of the operatives still often stood in waiting as their closest friends were returning from missions.

"Yeah, poor Volatile. She just got out of medbay and the plasma burn seemed pretty bad. She'll probably be out for a long time again", Daishi told her friend in a sympathetic voice, walking over to her closet and digging around in her pockets for the keys. The weapons and armor used in the combat operations were kept in the arsenal next to the Skyranger hangar bay, but the rest of their personal gear the operatives still stored in their own rooms. Getting to work on unpacking her bag, Daishi continued chatting with her friend.

"What's been going on around the barracks while we were gone?" the tall woman inquired while stuffing her gear into the closet. DSM leaned against her own closet next to Daishi's, running a hand through her dark hair and responding, "Oh, not much. Renzol's been out training all day again, you barely see her these days. Also there's been some rumors about new recruits arriving at the base in the coming days, so I guess that's something. Wonder if we'll have somebody taking Atlanton's old bunk."

Looking up from her task at hand, Daishi gave her friend a dubious look, "We have new people coming in and you say not much is going on? Dang, what is wrong with you?" The South African shrugged dismissively before answering in a nonchalant tone, "It's just a rumor I heard off of Scuba, so I wouldn't put much faith in it." Shaking her head a bit, Daishi remarked, "Whatever you say."

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" inquired DSM, sticking her hands in her pockets. Putting away the last of her things, Daishi grabbed the bag containing her bathing gear along with a clean tank top and underwear off the shelf. "I'll go take a drink with the squad and probably join the boys for some cards and TV since they asked so nicely", Daishi answered, closing her closet and turning towards her friend.

"The boys? What, you mean Instinct and Wolfer? Are you really sure they're your type of people? I bet they'll just try to get in your pants", DSM responded doubtfully, her brow furrowing as she looked her friend in the eye. Daishi let out a cheerful little laugh, patting her shorter friend on the shoulder. "It's nice of you to worry about me, but it'll be fine. They're nice people. I'm sure you can come too if you want to watch over me" she responded with a wide smile on her lips.

DSM glanced away from under her brow, muttering in a low voice, "Nice people, yeah right. You wouldn't know nice people if somebody hit you in the face with them. Not everybody is like you, Daishi. You'll manage to get yourself in trouble sooner or later." The tall woman cocked her hip to the side and regarded her friend with an amused look, lecturing her in a gentle tone, "We have to believe in each other in these difficult times, dear. You should try having a little bit more faith in people yourself. Just try it, you might be pleasantly surprised."

Daishi gave her friend a pat on the shoulder and uttered a goodbye, striding towards the door ready to take her shower. DSM rolled her eyes and muttered "_whatever"_ under her breath, turning towards her own bunk and the half-finished thriller novel she had lying on top of her pillow.

* * *

><p>"No, no, no. You see, the Cylon aren't aliens. WE made them, and they returned to wipe mankind out as revenge for the Cylon war. Or well, kinda yes and no but that's getting WAY ahead of things. Geez, did you even pay any attention? How could you think they were aliens? What is wrong with you?"<p>

The frantic complaints of Vherid filled the air in the corridor as people were returning to their rooms from the TV-room. Wolfer was the target of the sniper's relentless assault, the big man shaking his head with an incredulous look on his face. Turning to Instinct and Daishi, the assault pointed a thumb at Vherid's direction and remarked, "Can you believe this guy? What is he even saying? Those were alien robots if I've ever seen alien robots. And I have, just today."

Instinct wiped a hand over his face in embarrassment and Daishi let out a bright little laugh. Turning to his roommate, the dark-skinned assault spoke up through a thick yet perfectly understandable African accent, "You're an idiot Wolfer. Maybe if you'd spent more time focused on the show when there wasn't shit blowing up you'd realize just what an idiot you are." Wolfer rolled his arms around, loud popping emanating from his shoulders as he dismissed the comment, "Yeah, whatever. It's the last time I let jedi-boy here decide what we watch."

Vherid gave the man an unimpressed look and opened his mouth ready to correct the man on his sci-fi, but settled on a deep sigh and a shake of his head. Daishi bent over at the waist, looking at Vherid on the far-end of their line of four people and spoke up, "I think it was interesting. I'd gladly watch the TV-show as well, you said that was just a pilot miniseries?" Vherid's face lit up, smiling back at the scout. "Yeah, there's four seasons and seventy-five episodes. And some horrible movies that you don't need to know about. Isn't there always?"

Instinct gave Wolfer's bicep a sharp jab, joining the defense, "I thought it was good as well. Stop your complaining." Wolfer gave his shorter roommate a poisonous stare and stuck his hands in his pockets, continuing down the corridor in silence. Coming to their room, Daishi and Vherid waved the two assaults good-bye and stepped into the open room, pulling the door closed behind them.

DSM glanced up from her novel, speaking up in a snarky tone, "So which one had the battle with your pants? Don't tell me both." Daishi brushed up her hair with one hand and placed the other on her mouth, giggling in amusement. Vherid walked past her, answering DSM in her stead, "Wolfer was a complete douche, as expected." The sniper climbed up to his top bunk at the end of the room, digging a fantasy novel from under his pillow. DSM turned her gaze back to Daishi, lifting her eyebrows in a what-did-I-tell-you fashion.

With an amused voice Daishi spoke up, lifting her arms in a defensive gesture, "Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. I had fun! That's what matters right?" DSM grinned and nodded along with her friend, vocalizing her agreement in an over-the-top manner. Vherid propped himself against the wall, commenting, "He also managed to completely miss the point of one of the greatest sci-fi shows ever made. I mean, I guess he at least kept his eyes on something that made it worth it." Daishi cocked her head to the side, smiling at the flattery and responded with an "_oh you". _Vherid grinned and turned his eyes to the novel.

Daishi walked over to DSM and started explaining in an excited tone, "But hey, the show was actually really good! DSM, you should've come along after all! So it's like hundreds of years into the future…" Daishi's excited voice filled the room as she recounted the plot of the show, DSM listening intently and Vherid chiming in to give his expertise every once in a while.


	21. Chapter 20: Beyond the stars

Chapter 20: Beyond the stars

Author's note: the song mentioned in the end can be found on youtube by searching for "Paper boats transistor" if you want to play it in the background.

* * *

><p>The XCOM emergency response squad walked into the Skyranger hangar through the arsenal door. Drake slung her arms around the shoulders of Kilroy and Foogleman, exclaiming joyfully, "Finally the girls get to go on a mission together! I've been waiting for this FOREVER 'Roy!" Kilroy smiled a little, turning to look at her friend. "We'll show those bastards what the top assaults of XCOM can do, sister!" Kilroy responded. Foogleman was shaking her head, a smile creeping to her lips. "It's a large landed UFO girls. Don't get cocky like those jerks over there", the scout remarked, gesturing with her head towards the pair in front of them.<p>

Descending the steps to the Skyranger landing pad, Scubaman and Orgun were cheerfully chanting 99 bottles of beer on the wall, though instead of bottles of beer they were singing of alien crafts. Beyond them, Medve and Iku were standing in front of the Skyranger, waiting for the rest of the squad to make their way over.

Descending the stairs, the girls reached the rest of the gang. They all gathered into a circle, placing their arms over each other's shoulders. Medve took a deep breath before speaking up, "You're the best of the best people. Let's bring this baby home, it's what Frag would've wanted." The leader's words were followed by cheers and exclamations of encouragement from the rest of the operatives. Breaking away from the circle, the soldiers made their way into the aircraft, taking their familiar places.

* * *

><p>As soon as the blast signaling a launched rocket rang in the afternoon air, Foogleman jumped up. Her combat boots sent gushes of soil and grass into the air as she sprinted across the field littered with gazelle carcasses and stasis pods, dodging plasma fire from the outsiders and floaters on the other side, drawing fire as her squad moved up to support their leader. Medve was cursing loudly behind one of the pods, a massive plasma burn in his left shoulder. A red line of energy punched past the scout as Iku hit his mark, one of the outsiders exploding into a cloud of dust, scattering into the afternoon winds.<p>

Foogleman slid the last few meters into cover behind a stasis pod, plasma barrages beating the ground around her. Taking aim, she fired her laser rifle at the flanked outsider, the creature recoiling away from the fight as the high-energy pierced its crystalline body. Drake crashed into cover next to her, the assault pulling her laser pistol and finishing the creature off.

Turning her attention to the next enemy, Foogleman witnessed the arrival of reinforcements for the enemy. Four seekers appeared from under the shadows of the massive maw of the alien ship, disappearing from her sights as they cloaked themselves. Drake screamed next to her as a salvo of plasma buried into her chest. The woman fell into a heap behind the pod, gasping desperately for air while letting out a small whimper in pain. More plasma whizzed past their heads as the entrenched enemy pinned them down, smelling blood.

"Fall back! I've got Medve, get the hell outta there girls!" came the shout of Scubaman from behind them. Foogleman turned to Drake, grabbing her friend by the shoulder. The sounds of battle were blasting all around them, and Foogleman leaned in to shout in her friend's ear, "I'll draw the fire for you Drake, get back to Scuba and Medve! You're not going to die for this piece of shit ship you hear me?" Not waiting for an answer the scout jumped up, dashing hard along the farmfield-turned-battlefield.

Pressing her head down, Foogleman ran as fast as she could, shifting her weight from side to side, dashing towards the small grove of trees where Kilroy was holding off two floaters by herself. The scout felt a barrage of plasma whirr by behind her head, and another one just in front of her. Then she felt the sizzling-hot impact, and with a surprised grunt the scout lost her balance, crashing into the dirt field.

Desperately holding onto her laser rifle, Foogleman put the momentum of her fall into a roll, tumbling inelegantly forwards on the ground. Another plasma barrage hit the ground just behind her, sending a torrent of dirt and soil into the air. Even as the wound burned in her side, Foogleman pounced to her feet and dashed the last few meters into the grove, diving behind one of the trees.

"God-fucking-dammit!" came the shout from Kilroy as a floater barreled into cover behind a tree close to her, glancing the assault with a salvo of plasma. Taking cover behind her own tree, Kilroy pulled an HE grenade from her belt and tossed it at the floater, pressing her back to the trunk. Splinters of wood came flying at Foogleman as she ducked her head down, the floater screaming in muffled pain, still alive.

"I've got you!" Foogleman shouted to Kilroy, pulling a flashbang from her rigging and tossing it at the floater. Disoriented from the explosion, the alien took off into the air, jets blazing in full force as it wheeled across the sky. Three other floaters and the last outsider came up towards them from behind it, their plasma carbines scorching the tree Kilroy was hiding behind. The assault's face was twisted into a grimace as she squeezed her eyes shut, splinters flying in the air around her.

_I've got to help her,_ the thought rang in Foogleman's mind and without a moment's hesitation, the dauntless scout took off from behind her tree, squeezing everything she had out of her thighs. The aliens wheeled their carbines around to the easier target, plasma striking the trees around her. As soon as the scout left her cover Kilroy steeled herself, dashing out towards the enemy.

The assault fired her shotgun on the run, disintegrating the last outsider into glitter in the air. Taking cover behind the half-burnt tree trunk she had grenaded earlier, Kilroy saw a floater swoop in on her. With a primal battle cry, the woman unleashed a shot at the flying enemy, smashing its distorted face in and dropping it to the ground. A laser blast sizzled through the air as Scubaman covered for Kilroy, causing one of the floaters to take off uncontrollably, the jets propelling the creature up into the air before wheeling it around, crashing the alien to the ground.

"More seekers! FUCK ME CHRYSSALIDS!" the shout of Orgun carried to Foogleman's ears from the other side of the battlefield. The last remaining floater was pinning Kilroy behind her tree trunk, and Foogleman closed the bad news of Orgun from her mind. _They'll have to deal with it themselves, there's nothing I can do._ Shouldering her laser rifle from behind the tree she was using for cover, Foogleman took a shot at the floater. The strike hit and the alien cowered, hiding behind an overturned log. Kilroy took off instantly, jumping into the top of the log and spraying the creature's brains out onto the field.

"Kilroy look out!" Foogleman cried as three sectoids scampered towards her position from the alien ship, a drone flying in behind them. The assault dashed towards a large rock in front of her, stopping in her tracks as she crashed into thin air. The seeker became visible as it lost its cloaking, wrapping its tentacles around the woman, crushing at her throat.

Clenching her teeth together Foogleman dashed up, taking cover behind the burnt tree trunk. The interface of her laser rifle indicated only one shot left in the energy cell. Foogleman squinted her eyes as she aimed past her friend's head. Pulling the trigger, she melted the circuits inside the seeker's mechanical brain.

A low humming filled the air around Foogleman, the scout's eyes widening as she reached for a new energy cell. Black tentacles closed around her as a seeker descended upon her from behind, pushing her arms against her sides and squeezing around her throat. A pitiful whimper left Foogleman's throat as the creature pushed the air out of her lungs, the scout looking helplessly on towards the battle Kilroy was facing.

The drone came in hard, supported by the plasma fire the sectoids were sending in the assault's direction. With one hand on her throat, Kilroy gasped for air. She propped her shotgun against the rock with one hand, firing at the mechanical flier. The buckshot burrowed into the sensors on the front, frying the circuits inside and dropping the robot out of the air. The assault turned around and Foogleman saw the determination in her friend's eyes as she took off from behind the cover, plasma whizzing past her head.

Kilroy took aim over Foogleman's head, and the scout stared her friend in the eye, refusing to close her eyes. As the muzzle flashed, she instinctively blinked. The tentacles loosened around her as the seeker let her go of its grasp. Crashing forwards, Foogleman heard Kilroy scream she had no ammo. Foogleman tried to tell her to go, but she could only muster up a pitiful gasp. As if reading her mind, the assault wheeled around as she dashed back into cover behind the rock, reloading her shotgun frantically.

Foogleman spun around on the ground, pulling her pistol. The seeker was floating in the air above her, and the scout took aim with a trembling hand. She fired her pistol at the creature, the bullets clinking harmlessly against its metallic carapace.

"Die! Just fucking die! Why won't you die?" the scout shouted, but only a quiet, gasping whisper left her throat. The pistol in her hand clicked as the last round had left the magazine. Foogleman stared at the enemy, a thought coming to her mind.

_I'm ready._

The seeker's muzzle flashed green, striking Foogleman down.

* * *

><p>From a million miles away, Foogleman heard the sounds of battle. She was enveloped in complete darkness. Her body was heavy, but not painful. It was like she was hanging on by a thread, anchored into the ground by her bruised and beaten carcass.<p>

A ray of light shone on her face, and she observed with quiet wonder as a shape emerged from the light.

"What's this? Lying around was never like you Foogle", a familiar voice spoke, its tone soft and slightly amused. The figure stretched out a hand, and with marvel, Foogleman reached upwards.

The phantom grabbed onto her, and she grabbed onto him. With hands locked together, her friend lifted Foogleman from the ground. Leaving her beaten and broken body behind, she felt the thread snap. She felt light, she felt free.

And so she rose up, up, ever upwards into the sky, ascending far beyond the stars.

* * *

><p>The operatives were gathered around the break room. Everyone was present. The new recruits Jive, Hawkeye, Morgan, Doubleumc, Burncycle and Wootastic were standing near the door, faces solemn in respect of the woman they had barely known. People were sitting at the counter, facing into the room rather than the bar. Operatives lined the walls, some sitting, others standing up, some with drinks in their hand, others without.<p>

In the lounge part of the room, the armchairs and sofas were all taken. Kilroy and Drake were curled up in one of the armchairs. Drake had refused to stay in the medbay, and she had a blanket wrapped around herself over her patient's gown. Scubaman and Orgun were sitting in adjacent armchairs, quietly arguing over which one had gotten their ass beaten more soundly by Foogleman in squash. Both were trying to claim the honor for themselves. On the wall above the memorial table, a new picture had been added to those of Frag's, Toothcake's, Atlanton's and Ballystix's: a picture of Foogleman with a wide grin on her face, arms slung over Drake's and Kilroy's shoulders.

Medve spoke up, lifting a glass of whiskey, "To Foogleman. Most reliable of soldiers and a hell of a woman." Others joined the toast, and people drank to the memory of their deceased comrade. Orgun and Scuba finally settled the score, and Orgun proposed the next toast, "To Foogle! XCOM's queen of the squash court!" People joined the toast once more, many smiling in memory of the defeat they had been handed.

Daishi walked up to the jukebox in the corner of the room with DSM in tow, gesturing for her friend to get started. Turning to the room, the scout raised her voice, "Excuse me everyone, may I have your attention please?" The quiet chatter around the room died down, everyone turning to look at the tall woman.

"I respected Sergeant Foogleman. She was my trainer and a true role model when it came to work as a scout, but I know she was so much more to some people in this room. I just want to tell all of you: we will see her again. In my heart, I know it to be true. So please everyone, have faith. I know this might sound silly to some, but I just know it to be true." Turning to DSM, the South African gave her a thumbs-up and Daishi looked back towards the room.

"I would like to honor Foogle's memory through song. Please, don't think ill of me for doing so." Daishi crossed her fingers, hanging her hands low in front of her. Her back and shoulders were straight, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the music to start. DSM hit the button on the jukebox and slunk into the corner, sitting down and pulling her knees up to her chest.

The serene notes of a guitar echoed from the jukebox as last autumn's hit _Paper Boats_ started up. Daishi opened her eyes and looked over the faces of the people in the room. With a clear and strong voice filled with emotion, she sang the song, hitting every single note perfectly, even the ones that reached high into the skies.

The people in the room listened quietly. Renzol was sitting in a simple wooden chair, her back straight. Her eyes were red, but the tears hadn't come. The expression on her face was blank, eyes staring off into the distance. Over on the other side, Scubaman was leaning back into his armchair. One leg was stretched out in front of him and the man had his eyes closed, head resting against the chair. Next to him Orgun was doubled over, face buried in his hands.

Medve was standing up, staring into the ceiling above. A massive amount of gauze ran over his left shoulder and across his unclad chest. The big man's brow was furrowed in sorrow, the cigar in his hand forgotten and burning away idly. Merlin was sitting on a couch, her eyes red and tears welling in her eyes. Awo was lying down on the couch, his face buried in Merlin's lap. The woman was slowly caressing his buzz cut hair as the tears finally came.

Iku and Kungtotte were sitting next to each other. Iku had his head hanging low, hands grasping at his temples. The expression on his face was pained as he stared into the floor. Kungtotte had a hand placed on his back, gently consoling his friend. The South African seemed calm, but his eyes spoke of a deep sorrow.

On one of the armchairs, Drake stirred against Kilroy's shoulder. The wounded assault was curled up into a ball, tears running down her cheeks. Her face was twisted into a mask of sorrow as she sobbed pitifully against her friend's shoulder. Taking a stuttering breath she whispered in a voice fuzzy with sorrow and pain medication, choking on the words, "I miss her, 'Roy. I miss her so much." Squeezing her eyes shut, tears fell down Kilroy's cheeks. She turned her face towards the ceiling and gently caressed Drake's hair, speaking in a trembling voice, "I know, sister. I know."

Daishi sang her song, and the people inside listened, honoring the memory of their fallen comrade. Their fallen friend. Their fallen sister.


	22. Chapter 21: Salt and vinegar

Chapter 21: Salt and vinegar

Gunfire filled the shooting range as several XCOM operatives practiced their shooting skills. Due to the limited availability of laser weaponry, most of the practice was still done with ballistic weapons. Renzol was firing the MP7 submachine gun at the alien-shaped target down the range, the gunshots partially drowned out by her earmuffs. The weapon behaved completely differently to the laser shatterray when it came to firing, but getting a feel for the shorter SMG model of weapon was important. After all, taking aim, reacting to enemies and being comfortable with a certain type of weapon in your hands were all just as important as simply pulling the trigger.

Renzol fired the last of the bullets in the magazine and hit the button on the table. The floater-shaped target slid along the railing and came to a stop in front of the small rocketeer. Seeing the results, Renzol let out a sharp curse and tore the target sheet down, replacing it with another one. Slamming her hand on the button, the target returned to its original position.

Renzol reached for another magazine on her right and noticed Wolfer, who was practicing on the range next to her, stare at her with an amused look on his face. Renzol gave the man a sharp stare from under her brow before grabbing the magazine and turning her attention back to the target. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. She needed to calm down, else the target would return with such poor results once again.

Over the last week, Renzol had noticed a new trend in her behavior. It had started subtly, but was becoming more and more apparent to everyone in the base. She hated failure. Not so long ago, before she had started her meditation, she would shrug off shortcomings during training without giving it much thought. Now, she couldn't stand it. She knew she could do better, and sub-par performances irritated her to no end. Other soldiers around the base had been noticing it as well as she had started snapping at people during co-operative training.

She had tried putting the anger and irritation into the Box, but it was of no use. The emotions emerged so impulsively she couldn't control them, and most of the time they also disappeared just as quickly. But not always. Sometimes her mood would be rotten for the remainder of the day, and sometimes you just didn't have time for meditation.

Renzol shook her head and slammed the magazine into her weapon. At least she wasn't huddled in a corner somewhere, crying over how she couldn't do anything. If this was what it meant to be strong, she would take it over what she'd been any day.

Shouldering the SMG, Renzol focused on the target. She fired in rapid bursts, one after the other, relentlessly. Lowering her gun, she had a better feeling about this round. Tapping the button, she observed approvingly as the floater slid towards her. Some of the bullets had missed, but most of the bursts had stayed on target, forming neat pockets of holes in the cardboard. Taking down the target, Renzol tossed it in the trash and started gathering her gear from the table, done for the day.

* * *

><p>Renzol grabbed her tray from the counter, her plate filled with lasagna and salad with a large loaf of bread on the side. Turning over, she scanned the cafeteria for a place to sit in. Noticing the people of the operation squad from this morning at the end of one of the long tables, she headed over. The South Africans Cell and DSM were sitting at the end of the table with Hypergeek and Wolfer next to them. Only Awo was missing, and Renzol headed for the empty seat across from Hunterhr.<p>

Wolfer grinned as he noticed the approaching rocketeer, whispering something to Hypergeek, drawing a grin out of the engineer and the big assault let out a loud laugh himself. Wolfer followed her arrival across the room with his eyes, smirking in anticipation. As Renzol arrived at the table, the man shouted his greeting, "Hey there Renzol! Just a warning about that lasagna, they really should've used more salt on it. Oh wait, sorry. I'm sure you brought plenty of your own!"

The man burst into bellowing laughter at his own jest, Hypergeek shaking his head in amusement. The women at the end of the table grinned, amused at both the jibe and the man's over-the-top reaction to his own humor. Hunterhr had his trademark smile on his lips, glancing up from his plate to nod a greeting at the rocketeer. Renzol regarded the people at the table with a dubious look, laying her tray down and sitting down across from Hunterhr and next to Hypergeek.

"What?" the small rocketeer inquired, brow furrowed in suspicion as she regarded Wolfer. The man settled down in his chair and turned to Renzol, lifting a massive arm and speaking in his loud voice, "Oh come on! Like you don't get it. That was a great joke, what with you being so salty all the time." The man's jaw dropped and eyes widened as he realized the opportunity. Throwing his head back and letting out another bellow of a laugh, the man exclaimed to everyone in the cafeteria, "Salty Renzol! That might just be the best thing I've ever come up with!"

DSM rolled her eyes at the end of the table, turning to Wolfer with an incredulous look on her face and Cell cut the man's laughter with a sharply spoken lecture, "Goddamn it Wolfer! Think before you open your stupid fucking mouth!" Hunterhr's smile had disappeared from his face, the medic looking at the man next to him with quiet disapproval, glancing over at Renzol.

Renzol looked towards the women, putting a hand up. "No, it's fine. Salty Renzol is it? That's fine by me. I could care less either way", the small rocketeer uttered, turning to look at Wolfer. The man had a confused look on his face, not quite sure why the others hadn't joined his jest. Answering the assault's gaze for a moment, Renzol turned her attention to her food, thinking to herself:

_Salty Renzol, huh? I'm going to own that._


	23. Chapter 22: Vices

Chapter 22: Vices

Merlin was sitting on top of an overturned bucket, looking over the crashed UFO. Her laser rifle was resting across her lap, and the woman was taking deep drags off the cigarette she was holding between her fingers. The barn on her left had acted as a trusty fortress for the XCOM squad assaulting the defenders of the UFO, and it looked almost stoic in the moonlit night.

The infantrywoman took another drag on her smoke, resting her head back and turning her face towards the huge full moon hanging low in the sky. It had been her first time in charge of a combat operation, and leading a squad of four rookies no less. The lance corporals Daishi and Zim had provided their support, and the mission had been completed by the numbers with no casualties.

Merlin stared into the night sky, enjoying the immense glimmer of the Milky Way stretched across the sky. The lights of the city did not pollute the air here, letting the universe spread itself out across the dark canvas of the night sky. Daishi walked towards her from the direction of the UFO, climbing up the short but steep ridge created by the small alien craft as it had plowed across the farmland, her boots sending small pebbles of rocks and soil spinning down the slope.

"Oh, I didn't know you smoked Merlin", came the greeting from the Canadian scout, a friendly smile on her lips. Merlin took another drag on her cigarette and puffed the smoke out through her nose. In an uncharacteristically somber tone, she answered, "I was trying to quit. But what with all that's been going on…Foogle dying and before her, everyone else… you know, I just don't see the point. I might be dead any one of these days, it seems ridiculous to worry about lung cancer now."

Daishi came to a stop next to the sitting woman, turning to face towards the UFO as well. Regarding the night sky, her blonde ponytail swiveled slightly in the midnight winds. "Enjoy it while it lasts, huh? I can understand that, I think", the scout uttered, and Merlin turned to look at the operative on her side.

"You've never smoked?" inquired the Mexican, dropping the stub of her burnt-out cigarette on the ground and digging for her pack in the front pocket of her flak jacket. Sticking another one between her lips, she offered the pack up to Daishi. The tall woman smiled down at her and shook her head in refusal, answering the question, "I wanted to become a singer when I was a teenager, so I never even wanted to try because of my voice. And afterwards, well, I didn't want to try because of health reasons and I just thought that's that. Am I missing much?"

Merlin let out a cackle of a laugh, lighting up the cigarette before responding, "Not a damn thing. Only the ability to enjoy a beautiful moonlit night like this without a damn cigarette in your hand anymore." Silence followed as the two women enjoyed the sight before them, the stardust spreading itself over the dark shapes of the pine forest. The small forest fire caused by the crashed UFO had died down for the most part, with only a few patches of lingering flames flickering in the darkness.

Eventually Merlin was the first to break the silence, speaking up in an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry I'm not being exactly whooping company." Daishi glanced over at her, smiling gently and encouraging the downcast operative, "It's okay. We all have our ways of dealing with loss. You still gave it your best during the operation, that's what counts right?" Merlin dropped the stub of her cigarette, giving it a small kick with her boot and wiping a hand over her face. With a loud gob, she spat out the mucus the cigarette had loosened from her tracts.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I guess I'll just have to take it out on mama's little Dumpling tonight", Merlin responded, an evil grin rising to her face. Daishi gave the woman a look mixed with amusement and doubt. Speaking up, she voiced her concerns, "I hope you're not being too hard on him. He might have a hard time dealing with things himself."

Another sharp laugh rang in the night as Merlin dismissed Daishi's worries, getting up and slinging her laser rifle onto her back, "He acts like he doesn't like it, but I bet he gets more kicks out of getting abused than I do abusing him!" Merlin took off, striding towards the ridge and the UFO, leaving a flabbergasted Daishi standing on her own. Pushing her head down, she wondered for a brief moment whether she actually understood Merlin at all. Looking up into the night sky once more, she took off after her squad leader.


	24. Chapter 23: Blunders and beginnings

Chapter 23: Blunders and beginnings

Zim stirred slightly in her bunk, muttering contently as she rolled over under the warm blankets. Her dark hair was spread over the soft mound of pillows, and the woman fidgeted around a little in her slumber, digging deeper into the depths of the extra blankets she had piled on herself. Dreaming of dead sectoids and rapid-firing autolasers, the slightest of smiles rose to her lips. Turning over once more, her tongue smacked against her palate, letting out wet noises of pure contentment.

Her mind stirred a little, the woman in a hazy state between sleep and consciousness. It was good to have the day off. Even though it was forbidden for operatives to sleep out of their own bunks, Zim would always come to one of the empty rooms in the barracks when she was out of rotation. Having the entire room just for herself was a bliss she couldn't pass up, sleeping long past the time she would otherwise have.

Rolling over to her back, Zim laid her arms over her head, stretching out on the bunk with a blissful, almost orgasmic moan leaving her lips as her body stirred awake from its slumber. With eyes still closed, she enjoyed the warmth of the blankets for a while longer, lingering in her little nest. Even with summer approaching, the cold metal walls of the underground base could make for quite the chilly nights.

Arching her back and launching into another joyous stretch, Zim smacked her lips contently. It would soon be time to get up, but surely she could have just one more minute? Just one more minute of sleep, that's all. Rolling over to her side, the woman let out a small giggle as she buried deep into the mountain of blankets and pillows, curling up with just the tip of her nose peeking out. All settled down, she prepared to doze off.

Zim's eyes swung wide open as a cold lump suddenly materialized in the pit of her stomach. Turning to her back, the woman got to a sitting position, an inevitable feeling of dread rising deep inside her. _It's still Wednesday, right?_

The door to the room swung open, letting a cone of light into the darkness. A small figure stood in the doorway, peering into the room. "Zim! Is that you? We've been looking all over for you!" came the high-pitched scream of Squint as the scout dashed into the room, leaning over to look into the bottom bunk where Zim was residing at. Pulling the blankets to cover her face, Zim muttered in a small voice from behind her shield, "Please tell me it's still Wednesday Squint."

The PA system dinged, and the call for lance corporal Zim into the operation room rang inside the underground complex. Zim lowered the blanket and looked at Squint's face. The Polish woman was staring at her in disbelief, her light brown, almost blonde, hair framing a face with gentle features. Closing her gaping mouth, Squint relayed the orders, "You need to get into the op room ASAP! There's been an alien terror attack in Durban and the squad's waiting for you. It's Thursday, Zim. You're on duty."

Zim bit onto the top of the blanket, staring into the distance with distraught eyes. Shaking her head, she let go of the blanket and tossed them to the side, jumping up from the bunk and running into the corridor in only her tank top and panties. Taking a hard left, she pushed her head down and sprang past the puzzled Vherid and Hypergeek. The command over the PA system repeated, and Zim cursed her heavy sleeper's gifts. She had been completely oblivious to the PA system in her slumber.

Coming to the end of the corridor, she kicked open the door to her room. Instinct jumped to a sitting position in his bunk, exclaiming, "Where the hell have ya been Zim?" Bolting to her closet, Zim cut the man off with a heated "_not now!"_ Slamming the closet open, she grabbed her bag and started stuffing the necessary gear in. With the bag full, she threw it out into the corridor as she hastily pulled on a pair of socks and trousers, stuffing her feet into her heavy combat boots.

Jumping out into the corridor with her pants still around her ankles, the gunner grabbed her bag from the floor and threw it on her back. People in the corridor were staring at her, with all of the room doors open and filled with curious operatives looking on. Stumbling onwards, Zim struggled to pull up the pants, taking off into a frantic run while fiddling with her belt buckle.

At the end of the corridor, Daishi emerged from around the corner. Putting her hand up, she stopped Zim in her tracks. With a regretful look on her face, the scout spoke up, "They left without you, Zim." The gunner's shoulders slumped and she dropped her bag on the floor. Looking up at Daishi, an ashamed grin rose on her lips as she replied, "I'm sure it'll be fine, right? I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

The PA system came to life once again, the female voice commanding lance corporal Zim into the disciplinary office. Zim cowered from the voice, hiding her face in her hands and muttering "_oh nein"_ under her breath.

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere over Arizona<em>

Kilroy stared at the stack of papers in her hand, bumping slightly in the rough helicopter ride. She was wearing civilian clothes: a pair of blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a brown leather jacket. Her mid-length brown hair was running free, framing a face deep in contemplation. Thumbing through the files she had gone over multiple times already, Kilroy thought back to the night.

It had been the middle of the night when she had been stirred awake from her sleep, and by the commander's personal assistant, no less. In a hushed tone, the young man had told her to put her civilian clothes on and hurry to the commander's office. Kilroy had complied, moving quietly in the dark room as not to wake up her roommates.

The commander had seemed exhausted, a bottle of half-drunk soda forgotten on the side of his table. The light-blue glow of the dual monitors from his computer had illuminated a scrawny face covered in coarse stubble accompanied with considerable dark circles under his eyes. Looking up from the monitor, the man had greeted the saluting Kilroy, signaling for the sergeant to stand at ease.

"_What do you think of this, sergeant?"_ the commander had spoken, turning around a lap top on the table. The monitor had displayed a picture of a Caucasian male wearing a collared shirt, a suit's vest, a tie and a pair of khaki pants. The lower part of his face was covered by an orange and red scarf, tied behind his neck bandit-style.

Kilroy had mulled her tongue around in her mouth in contemplation before answering, _"I see quite the dapper fellow in his thirties, with an effort to conceal his identity. What am I looking at, sir?"_ The commander had stared Kilroy in the eye, pulling a laser pistol from his desk's drawer and sliding it towards the assault. In an ominous tone, the commander had answered her question:

"_A terrorist."_

Coming back from her thoughts, Kilroy rolled up the stack of papers and slapped it against her hand. Pulling up the bag by her feet, she stuffed the files inside. There was no use going through them again: she knew the briefing inside-out.

It had been a hasty beginning to her first covert operation against the global terrorist organization EXALT, and the minimal information and briefing they had available had been delivered to her upon arrival in one of the Council's Pacific bases, located on a solitary island off the coast of the US. One of the XCOM base's Raven-type fighter jets had speeded her across to the island and from there, her journey had continued via a speedboat towards the coast of Arizona, US where the chopper had been waiting for her.

"EXALT", Kilroy muttered under her breath, tasting the word. An organization dedicated to undermining the operations of Earth's last line of defense in an attempt to gain alien technology and increased power for themselves? What could they be after? Some reports spoke of their "misguided" sympathies for the alien invaders, but at the same time, there were reports of EXALT and alien forces engaging in battle between each other as the terrorists looked to gain access to alien artifacts. Kilroy ran a hand through her hair, letting out a deep sigh.

In the afternoon light, the inconspicuous utility helicopter flew in low across the desert landscape of Southern Arizona, following along the ridge of Gila River. Taking a turn right, the chopper diverted off the river's path, flying into the desert. The pilot leaned out of the cockpit, shouting over the flapping of the rotor, "We're almost there. Prep for extraction." Kilroy unbuckled her seat belt and grabbed her shoulder bag, slinging it across her chest. Double-checking her laser pistol was safely in its concealed holster under her armpit, she got up and grabbed onto the straps hanging from the railing in the roof of the chopper.

The helicopter came to a halt above an inconspicuous valley sheltered from all sides by small rises. Kilroy stepped to the edge on the open side of the chopper, staring down into the ground. The landscape was tinted an orange hue, with cacti and other drought-tolerant small plants growing here and there. The only other passenger in the chopper, a nameless man wearing tactical rigging and desert camo came to her side, kicking a stack of rope down off the edge, leaving it hanging towards the ground.

"Good luck, whatever it is you are doing here", came the good-bye from the soldier. Kilroy pulled a pair of aviator sunglasses from her jacket's pocket and slipped them on, followed by fingerless leather gloves. Turning to the man, she replied over the beating of the rotor, "Don't wish me luck. I hate it when people wish me luck." Grinning at the platitude she'd got to use, special operative Kilroy got to her knees and slung her feet over the edge of the aircraft, grabbing onto the rope and grappling down, her satchel swinging in the air and her hair beaten around by the gusts created by the chopper.

Getting closer to firm ground, Kilroy jumped the last few meters, landing elegantly with a bend of her knee. Standing up in the midst of the helicopter-created sandstorm, she glanced up at the bird, the rope quickly disappearing into the interior of the aircraft as it veered off into the desert, retreating back a different way than where it had flied in at. Turning her attention to her now-peaceful surroundings, Kilroy observed the small valley. Rocks and bushes, with the occasional desert gust sending dust into the afternoon air.

Kilroy climbed up one of the sloping hillsides. Getting to the top, she turned around, eyeing the horizon. Not a soul in sight, with the fast-disappearing helicopter the only thing moving. Looking up towards north, she could see the crevice of the Gila River in the distance. Letting out a deep breath, Kilroy clambered back down the slope, her sneaker-clad feet sending puffs of desert dust into the air.

Coming to the bottom, Kilroy headed towards a large rock in the center of the valley. Its shadow would provide some respite from the scorching May sun, and Kilroy squatted down against the rock, resting her back against its rough surface. Now all there was left to do was wait for the jeep.

* * *

><p>Author's note: Because of the way the EXALT missions make absolutely no sense in real-life terms (comm hack? seriously? how am I gonna write that in!) I will modify them with a heavy hand. In covert extractions I might end up writing about the mission itself, but even that will be completely different. The discerning reader might even have noticed that I changed the location of the covert operation because, well, I felt like it :P But without further waffling, you can expect heavy focus on the actual process leading up to the retrieval of the data as special operative Kilroy channels the cool bad-assness of James Bond and the witty one-liners of ZX64.<p> 


	25. Chapter 24: The Cleaning lady

Chapter 24: The Cleaning lady

Author's note: I'll use randomly picked names from youtube comments and fanfiction site reviews for the names of extra characters so they'll have some resemblance to the main cast, i.e. suddenly having people named "Bob" and "John" wouldn't make much sense in this world.

* * *

><p>Drake was sitting in the back row of the auditorium, grimacing at the pain in her chest. The plasma burn had been deep and the shock and infections that had followed had left her immobile for days after the fateful landed abductor ship operation. The doctor estimated she would still be out for three weeks, but at least being able to get up and about was something. She was wearing comfortable sweat pants and a loose gown-like shirt provided by the medbay personnel. Iku next to her turned over, eyeing the assault with a worried look on his face. "You okay?" the Japanese sniper whispered and Drake lifted a hand in response, nodding through a pained grimace. Signaling towards the silver screen and the commander himself giving the briefing, Drake urged Iku to turn his attention back to the matter at hand.<p>

On the screen a slide show was being projected. It concerned the new threat XCOM was now facing: a terrorist group called EXALT. The commander was wrapping up what had been an hour long briefing on the new enemy. "As we learn more, you can expect additional briefings as per usual. The briefing is over, but every soldier designated to the assault class, stay behind for further orders", came the conclusion from the commander. The operatives stood up, streaming out of the auditorium through the doors located at the front and back. Drake leaned back in her seat, letting out a deep sigh as her thoughts turned to Kilroy. _I hope she's alright._

Wolfer, Instinct and Morgan stayed behind in addition to Drake. The commander spoke up, notifying the assaults of the new program, "All of you will be receiving additional training in covert operations from now on. Training begins today at 1400 hours in lecture room four. All of you are expected to be there, and I'm afraid that includes you Drake. I've spoken to the doctor about how best incorporate this into your treatment schedule. We need you back out there ASAP. That is all. Dismissed."

Getting up, the assaults from the front row climbed up the steps to the back, Drake getting up to join them. Morgan hurried to her side, offering her arm for Drake. The wounded trooper muttered a thank you and accepted the help, the two women joining the two men in the corridor.

"Are you worried about Kilroy?" Morgan asked. The Caucasian former US marine was a fresh recruit out of assault school, having done her first field operation just a few days ago. Wolfer crossed his arms behind his head and spoke in a carefree tone, "I'm sure she'll be fine. Wasn't she like a secret FBI agent or some shit? If anyone's got this EXALT covered, it's Kilroy." Drake glanced at the loud man, shaking her head, "She wasn't an agent. She was part of the Hostage Rescue Team, though she did mention having taken some classes in covert ops and agent studies."

Wolfer shrugged dismissively and started picking at his teeth with his nail. Instinct glanced over at Drake, speaking his encouragement, "Regardless, if there's an operative here for the job, it's her. She'll be fine, Drake." The caramel-skinned woman nodded solemnly, turning her attention to steadying her walking. Her feet were shaking as her chest started to itch and burn once again, and the woman let out a small grunt. Speaking up, she turned to Morgan, "Can you help me over to the medbay? I think I'm due for more anti-burn cream. Hate that shit, it stinks like ass. Kinda like Wolfer here." Morgan grinned back at her senior, the comment drawing a cry of dismay from the big man walking ahead of them.

* * *

><p>A fan spun around lazily in the ceiling of the small living room in the small apartment. Kilroy crossed her arms over her chest, tapping at the floor impatiently with her sneaker-clad foot. Speaking up, the woman said in an agitated tone, "So? Are they leaving or not?" An African-American man with spectacles perched on his nose was tapping away on the computer set up in the corner of the room. Looking up at the operative, the man answered her question, "There's definitely increased activity around the building. I think they might be packing up."<p>

Another man was sitting in an armchair, thumbing through a stack of files in his hands. Looking up from his work, the Caucasian male voiced everyone's concerns, "I don't think the amount of suits is going to go down until they're out." Kilroy walked through the room littered with surveillance equipment located in downtown Tucson, Arizona. Peering through the half-closed blinds, she regarded the apartment building across the street. Turning to the Council's agents, she declared in a decisive tone, "Then we're going loud tonight."

The two men looked at each other and Thaecrasis, the man at the computer, turned to Kilroy, "It's your call, Sheriff. Everything's set up, all you need to do is say so and we'll support you to our fullest." Kilroy nodded, staring the man in the eye and saying, "2000 hours is when we'll begin. You've got fifteen minutes to get your shit together people, we can't afford to fuck this up." The men acknowledged her order, and Kilroy strode into the bedroom of the apartment.

Shutting the door behind her, Kilroy closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. _You can do this. You have to do this. The plan will work._ Opening her eyes, she regarded the cleaner's outfit spread out on the bed. Thaecrasis would be pulling his strings to stop the actual cleaner from coming in tonight. The cleaning company in question had a large roster of people, and it was a different person doing the apartment building almost every night. EXALT wouldn't be suspicious of a new face coming in. Kilroy let out a sharp puff, her shoulders heaving up and down as she psyched herself up.

Walking up to the bed, she tossed the laser pistol next to the outfit. It was a light blue garment consisting of loose trousers and a shirt, intended to be worn over your regular clothes. Getting to work, Kilroy dressed up in the uniform. Stuffing the laser pistol into the waistband of her jeans, the operative walked up to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. Regarding her figure, she conclude the weapon was well concealed and not sticking out from under the cleaner's outfit. Grabbing a bobble from the table, she pulled her hair into a tight little bun. Regarding the woman staring back from the mirror, a grin rose to her lips. The bastards wouldn't know what hit them. Reaching for the garrote on the table, she slipped the weapon into the pocket of her cleaner's shirt. Stuffing a few extra energy cells into her jeans, Kilroy headed back into the living room.

Thaecrasis was tapping away furiously on his computer, setting up the programs for the data recovery. The Caucasian man, Pandora, was standing up at the back of the room, away from the blinds. The man was double-checking his sniper rifle. He was the weapons specialist of the team, and would be Kilroy's only immediate support if things went wrong. Should the operation fail or should they spook EXALT's field squad deployed in the area, Thaecrasis would call for backup. The Skyranger would be deployed with an XCOM counter squad to combat the terrorists. Of course, the agents provided by the Council didn't know that. The backup they were supposed to call for could've been SWAT or FBI for all they knew. They didn't even know Kilroy's name; they were instructed to refer to the special operative by her code name, Sheriff, and to not ask any questions that weren't directly related to the mission.

Kilroy walked over to Thaecrasis and the man got up to attach a tiny mic into the collar of her T-shirt beneath the cleaner's garb. Offering Kilroy a small earpiece, the operative took up the gadget and placed it inside her ear. Turning her head, she offered the device for inspection. The black man nodded approvingly and Kilroy turned towards the room so she could see both the agents at once. Lifting her arm, she looked at her watch and spoke up, "Okay, set watches to 2000 hours…now. Operation begins here people. Let's all play our parts, and let's play them well." With that, Kilroy headed towards the door, pushing out of the apartment.

Arriving in the empty hallway, Kilroy took a right. Taking the stairs down from the sixth floor, she headed for the back exit of the building. There, a car was waiting for her. Digging the keys from her pocket Kilroy got into the old, non-descript Sedan and started up the engine. Taking the long way around, she got into the main street leading away from the target. "Sheriff here. I'm on the road. How copy?" There was a brief buzz of static on the line before the voice of Thaecrasis answered, "Copy that Sheriff, this is Phantom. All set up and waiting for the goods. Archer reports no new developments in the Vault."

Kilroy wheeled the Sedan around, taking the pass to the highway and driving past the neighborhood where their base and target were located at. Taking the ramp off, she drove into the area of operations from the north as darkness fell over the city. Checking her watch, she noted it was 2015 hours. The cleaning shift started at 2030 hours. Satisfied she was on schedule, Kilroy hit the brakes as she approached red lights at an intersection.

Cruising down the remaining blocks, Kilroy slowed her drive to a crawl as she approached the target apartment. Glancing to her left, she looked up at their base's window. Just another window like the rest of them. She wheeled the car to the right, parking on the side of the road in front of the target building. She tapped the butt of the laser pistol through her clothes to make sure it was still there. Getting up from the car, she slammed the door shut. Locking up the old Sedan, she hoped she'd still get to drive it out of here. Rounding the vehicle, Kilroy approached the glass doors of the old apartment building. The structure was five stories tall. The cleaning shift began from the top floor as the cleaner would work their way down floor by floor. The EXALT cell also happened to be located in the top floor. Distantly, Kilroy thought it was good she didn't actually have to clean for entire floors to make her way to the objective.

Pushing in through the doors, Kilroy headed for the elevator. She had memorized the layout of the building inside-out, and she took a left from the hall. Coming to the elevator, she noticed the arrow on the top signaling it was coming down. Her earpiece buzzed to life and the worried voice of Thaecrasis came through on the line, "Two suits just left the Vault. No eyes on, but they could be headed down."

Kilroy stood still, waiting for the elevator. She summoned an indifferent look to her face and cocked her hip to the side, resting a hand on her waist. The numbers on the display decreased steadily. Four… three… two… one… the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Two men clad in neat vests and khaki pants stepped out into the hall. They had red scarfs around their necks and appeared to have been in a heated discussion, silencing themselves as they saw Kilroy standing in wait. Kilroy nodded at the men and gave a disinterested _"good evening"_. The men nodded, and one of them glanced at the ID card on Kilroy's shirt. It had her face and a fake name on it under the company's name, "Neat Tucson Inc."

The men passed her by, and Kilroy pushed into the elevator. Hitting the number five, she leaned against the wall of the elevator and spoke into her mic in a quiet tone, "This is Sheriff. I'm in. Passed by two suits downstairs. Headed for the pit stop. How copy, over?" This time the answer from Thaecrasis came immediately, the man's voice betraying his excitement, "This is Phantom. I hear ya Sheriff, the suits are headed out of the AO in their car. Seems like Lady Luck did smile on us after all!" A small smirk rose to Kilroy's lips before she pushed herself to a standing position from the wall, muttering her acknowledgment into the mic. The elevator dinged once more and the doors opened to the fifth floor.

Kilroy stepped out into the corridor. The walls were unkempt concrete painted light blue and gray, and the cracked floor was tiled in the same colors. _What a depressing dump,_ the thought crossed Kilroy's mind as she headed to her left towards the cleaner's cupboard. It was located at the opposite end of the floor from the EXALT cell's hideout. Digging the keys from her pocket, Kilroy opened the door and stepped into the small closet, closing the door behind her.

Kilroy hit the light switch next to the door, and the fluorescent lamp came to life, illuminating the small room. Shelves full of cleansers and cleaning equipment lined the walls, and the cupboard was dominated by the cleaner's cart in the middle. Kilroy squeezed between the shelf and the cart, getting to the back of the small space. Kneeling down, she felt around in the corner of the room. As planned, one of the floor tiles was loose, and Kilroy dug her nails into the crack. Lifting the tile to the side, she reached into the space between the pipes and pulled out a rectangular brown leather bag. Peeking inside, she noted it contained the laptop required to mine the data they were looking for. Moving the floor tile back to its place, Kilroy swung the bag's strap over her chest and made her way back to the door.

Bringing her hand over to her earpiece, Kilroy contacted her support team, "Sheriff here. Pit stop completed, can you give me a sit rep on the Vault and the front yard?" Thaecrasis came through on the line, indicating the coast was clear. Kilroy let out a sharp sigh, pushing the door open and stepping out into the corridor.

Glancing left and right, Kilroy verified the coast was indeed clear. The view from their base only covered the very end of the corridor where the EXALT cell's hideout was located at. Shutting off the lights in the cleaner's cupboard and closing the door, Kilroy made her way over to the end of the corridor in a brisk walk. The two adjacent doors on the right at the very end were the target.

Reaching the window at the end of the corridor, Kilroy didn't waste any time. She inserted the cleaner's key into the slot on the side and turned it around. To her left, the corridor continued along the side of the building while the window in front of her opened into the main street. Swinging the window open, she stepped out into the temperate May evening. Getting onto the grating of the fire escape, Kilroy closed the window after her. Taking a deep breath, she turned towards the building, climbing up to the railing and stepping to the ledge running along the side. This was the tricky part; not only for the chance to lose your balance, but for the danger of any EXALT lookouts noticing the woman in cleaner's garb grappling along the side of the building like a special agent. They had determined no such lookouts existed, but pressed up against the side of the building and inching her way over towards the window of the enemy's hideout, Kilroy felt more naked and vulnerable than she ever had in her entire life.

Her earpiece buzzed to life, and the familiar voice came through on the line, "We have you covered, Sheriff. Sound surveillance indicates only one person inside, heavily distracted. Phantom out." Kilroy slipped the cleaner's key into the slot on the outside of the window and turned it. Eyes peeled open and holding her breath, Kilroy pushed. The old windows had a simple one-level locking mechanism, and the frame swung inwards. Crouching down, Kilroy pushed the window all the way open and jumped into the room.

The living room was mostly empty. To her right, an old beat-up sofa was pushed up against the wall and to her left, an old TV sat on top of a cardboard box. Further down the right, the door was shut tight with a simple coat rack standing in the corner. On the left wall, a closed door led into the bedroom of the apartment. Directly in front of Kilroy, the opposite wall was taken up by a huge set of computers. The multiple monitors showed all sorts of data and recreational websites. With a quick glance, Kilroy noticed at least three computer towers. In front of the hacker's dream set up, a tall black computer chair swung from side to side.

Kilroy approached the chair quickly and silently, pulling the garrote from her pocket. Getting closer, she could see the headphones on the person's head as he rocked out to whatever music blasted through his ears. The man let out a few stumbling vocals and leaned forwards on his chair, reaching for the keyboard on the table. Kilroy came up behind him and stretched out the weapon in her hands.

Lunging forwards, the XCOM agent closed the wire of the garrote over the hacker's throat. All he could do was let out a surprised gurgle as the wire cut off his windpipe. Lifting his hands to his throat, the man struggled in vain. Kilroy pulled back hard on the garrote, using her body weight. The chair fell over as the man stumbled into the ground, the wire of the headphones pulling free as it got caught in the deadly weapon's grasp. Kilroy jerked on the man, pulling him up against her body as the terrorist's feet wiggled helplessly on the floor, the urgency in his movements dying down by the moment. As the man's struggling stopped, Kilroy gave the garrote a few more jerks, making sure her target was dead. Loosening the cord across his throat, Kilroy let the man down to the ground, looking him in the face.

Kilroy stopped in her tracks. The man wasn't a man at all. His acne-ridden face was twisted into a horrific grimace with a red line running across his throat. The fledgling features betrayed him to be a boy barely in his twenties. He was wearing a black Machinae Supremacy hoodie and ill-fitting old jeans. Kilroy stared at his face for a moment before getting up, frantically making her way over to the open window. Pushing the window close, she turned over towards the bedroom.

Pulling her laser pistol from her waistband, Kilroy pushed up against the wall. With one hand, she reached over for the door knob and turned. Throwing the door open, she flicked the safety of the laser pistol off and stepped out into the doorway, weapon at the ready. Three sleeping bags and air beds lay on the floor amidst empty bags of candy, potato chips and cans of beer and soda. Making her way across the room, Kilroy opened the door to the bathroom. Empty. Turning around, she stuffed the laser pistol back into her jeans and got on the computer.

Setting down her bag on the table, Kilroy pulled out the laptop. Flicking the monitor up, she turned the machine on. Speaking to her mic, Kilroy contacted her support team, "I'm setting up the data mine. Took care of one… suit inside, please do keep me up-to-date if those two from before return. Sheriff out." Listening to the response, Kilroy turned away from the table. She looked at the man lying down on the ground, dead by her hand. _He's just a boy,_ the thought flashed through her mind. Shaking her head, Kilroy turned her focus back to the laptop. _A terrorist. He was a terrorist, the same as those suits next door._ The laptop powered on, and Kilroy grabbed a cable from the bag, connecting the device onto the main computer.

"He's all yours, Phantom. Please do try to hurry, I'm getting a little antsy in here. Sheriff out", Kilroy spoke onto her mic, walking over to the door and peering through the peephole. The corridor was still empty. Praying no one would notice there was no cleaner out and about on the floors, Kilroy headed back over to the hacker's body. Removing the headphones and tossing them aside, she grabbed the dead man, _boy_, under his arms, dragging the body across the room. Backing up into the bedroom, she dropped the body on one of the air beds and spread out a sleeping bag over it.

Getting back into the main room, Kilroy closed the door behind her. From her earpiece, she heard the voice of Pandora come through, his voice panicky, "Shit Sheriff, a suit's getting out from next door. He's coming to pay you a visit!" Kilroy's heart jumped, and she pressed herself against the wall next to the main door. She laid a hand on the butt of her laser pistol, but she couldn't afford to cause a ruckus. _Silently, girl. Do it silently._ Taking a deep breath, she heard the lock rattle as the EXALT operative turned his keys inside.

The door swung open into the corridor, and Kilroy stepped out. With a swift kick to the groin, she incapacitated the EXALT operative. The man doubled over, grunting in surprise. Kilroy grabbed him by the hair and pulled hard, tossing him onto the floor of the apartment. Reaching for the door in the corridor, she pulled her laser pistol out as she closed the door behind her in one motion, wheeling around to face the terrorist.

The man was on one knee, his pistol halfway out of its holster. "Put it down. Now", Kilroy spoke in a cold, commanding tone. The man took a deep breath as he laid down his weapon. "Get down on both knees", came the next order from Kilroy, and the man complied. Looking at the high-tech weapon in her hand, the man spoke up, "Who are you?" Not letting the enemy out of her sights, Kilroy stepped towards the man, laser pistol pointed between his eyes. In an emotionless voice, special operative Kilroy responded, "Me? I'm just the Cleaning lady." Circling around the man, she got to his backside. Putting the laser pistol in her shirt's pocket, she pulled out the garrote. Without mercy, she snapped the cord around the man's throat, pulling him back against her chest. The EXALT operative's hands jumped up, clawing at the wire, low guttural noises emanating from his strangled throat. Kilroy leaned in, whispering in his ear through gritted teeth, "And I'm here to take out the trash."

The man struggled for a while, Kilroy holding him firmly against her body, pulling hard on the garrote. Finally, the man stopped fighting back, going limp in her arms. Distantly, Kilroy noted it had taken him considerably longer to expire than it had for the other man. _The other boy, you mean?_ With a shake of her head, Kilroy dragged the body into the bedroom, concealing it under another sleeping bag. Getting back to the living room, she spoke into her mic in an agitated tone, "What's taking so goddamn long Phantom? I've got some serious heat on me here, please tell me you're finished." The voice of Thaecrasis answered on the line in a heated tone, "I'm done when I'm done, stop pestering me! About one more minute, believe me, I'll let you know."

Kilroy walked back up to the door, taking another peek into the corridor. Nothing for now. Making her way back to the computer, she observed the various monitors. One of them featured a website unknown to her called 4chan, and another one had a paused video with half-naked anime girls on it. Kilroy shook her head as she eyed through the rest of them: a multiplayer shooter in the main menu, the website of an online gun store, a live-streaming website with an offline channel open. In the corner of one of the monitors was an open IRC client with the nickname skynetZ logged in. Kilroy leaned in as she observed the white letters on the black window:

19:44:31 |lanik_| sup man?

19:45:54 |skynetZ| not much, just about to roll in the dough m8

19:46:12 |lanik_| what your parents feeling generous again? :D

19:48:22 |skynetZ| you wouldnt believe this shit

19:48:25 |skynetZ| gonna tell you all bout it

19:48:36 |skynetZ| we still up for friday?

19:49:20 |lanik_| hellyea man

19:49:31 |lanik_| this story better be good for all the hype

19:54:47 |skynetZ| hype train off the rails

19:54:52 |skynetZ| gon make it rain strippers and booze bro

19:58:22 |lanik_| :DDDD

The earpiece buzzed to life as Thaecrasis informed Kilroy of successful data transfer. Kilroy turned away from the monitor and unplugged the laptop, stuffing it in the bag and swinging it over her shoulder. Looking through the peephole, she made sure the coast was clear. Opening the main door, she stepped out into the corridor.

Walking with a brisk pace, she made her way over to the stairs on the side. There was no way she was going to lock herself in the elevator now, and she rapidly descended onto the first floor. The panicky voice of Thaecrasis rang in her ear as the earpiece buzzed to life once more, "Shit! Activity in the corridor, suits from next door going into the Vault fast. I've got movement outside as well, identified field squad vehicles. They've been spooked, Sheriff. Get the hell outta there, plan B!"

Kilroy cursed under her breath, taking off into a run towards the back of the bottom floor. Throwing open the back door, she tore the cleaner's clothes off of her, tossing them to the side. It had started to rain, and the black asphalt glimmered wet in the lights from the apartment building. Sprinting towards the dark back alleys, she spoke into her mic with urgency, "Call in the cavalry, Phantom! And get the hell outta there with Archer, you can't cover me anymore. Don't blow your own cover goddammit! Sheriff out, kill this line." Tearing the mic and earpiece off of her, she threw them into the dark street. Coming up towards the lights on the other side, she slowed her run into a walk. The early evening had been temperate, but the air was getting chillier by the minute, and she cursed her lack of a coat. Re-positioning the laser pistol to the back of her waistband, Kilroy pulled her T-shirt over the weapon. Looking both ways across the street, she waited for a solitary car to pass before sprinting to the other side.

Making her way through the dark streets and back alleys of Tucson, she tried to follow the escape plan in her mind. They'd set up multiple safe houses all over the city, and she would have to find one to hunker down in and wait for the XCOM extraction squad. The dangerousness and the resources available to the EXALT field squads had been analyzed by the Council, and they had been determined to be extremely dangerous and organized when on full alert. Trying to leave the AO would be incredibly risky without the support of XCOM's heavy fire power, and Kilroy wasn't about to disobey orders.

Deciding she'd gained sufficient distance to the enemy, Kilroy scanned the streets for a taxi. Seeing one parked on the side of the road further down, she hurried over. Hailing the taxi as it was about to take off, Kilroy ran to its side. Leaning into the passenger's window, she knocked on the glass. The driver lowered the window, speaking in an annoyed tone, "I've got call on a customer already, woman." Her face and hair wet from the rain, Kilroy pulled a wallet from the bag and shoved a stack of bills at the man. The driver's eyes widened as he beckoned for Kilroy to get in. Opening the door, Kilroy jumped inside and handed the man a stack of two hundred dollars and spoke an address a couple of blocks away from one of the safe houses. "You can keep that for yourself, I'll pay for the ride separately", the woman uttered, earning a grateful look from the driver. "You were never here", the man muttered, taking off into the wet and dark streets.

* * *

><p>A thoroughly wet Kilroy walked up to the door of apartment number 224 in a non-descript block of flats. Digging the corresponding key out of her bag, she unlocked the door and pulled it open. Stepping inside, she closed the door with an echoing <em>clang<em> behind her. The room was dark, with the only light coming in through the half-closed blinds. Slivers of light from the street lamps illuminated a round table in the middle of the room and the vague shape of a fridge on the left. Letting her hair free from its bun, Kilroy walked across the room.

Getting to the window, she put her fingers in-between the blinds, opening them up ever so slightly. Peering into the night, slivers of light illuminated her face: wet strands of hair framing her features, a distant and contemplative look in her brown eyes. Her lips parted slightly as she took in a breath of air, turning away from the window. Making her way over to the table in the middle of the room, she slung the bag off of her shoulders and laid it down gently.

Extracting the laptop from the wet bag, she turned around and headed for a closet next to the fridge. Looking inside, she noticed a familiar shadow she had placed there herself. Picking up the extra bag, she brought it over to the table. Taking a peek inside, the slivers of light from the window showed the shapes of the extra wallet, passport, ID, radio phone and other necessities inside. Tossing the wet bag aside, Kilroy gently placed the laptop inside the fresh one. Taking a slightly concerned look at the door, she headed for the bathroom.

Kilroy turned on the small fluorescent light above the sink, putting down the laser pistol and its energy cells in the medicine cabinet. Peeling the wet clothes off of her body, she tossed them unceremoniously aside. Unhooking her bra and slipping out of her panties, she got into the shower. The warm water running over her tired body was the most blissful feeling she had felt in a long time. Letting her adrenaline-wrecked body relax for a moment, she lingered in the shower for a while before reaching for the shampoo. Scrubbing her firm and toned body clean, her mind was empty but for the feeling of running water on her skin.

With a heavy sigh, Kilroy shut off the shower. Stepping out, she reached for a towel and dried herself down. In one of the bathroom closets, a clean set of clothes was waiting for her. Pulling them on, she regarded herself in the mirror. Her face lacking make up was very much average. She wasn't gorgeous in the way Stoli was, nor was she plain like Renzol. The face of a normal brunette woman in her early thirties. Giving herself a wink, she pointed a finger at the reflection. "Bang", she muttered, lifting her finger as if firing a gun. Reaching for the laser pistol and its energy cells, she walked out into the living room, shutting the lights behind her.

Kilroy laid the weapon down on the table, turning over to the fridge. Opening it up, she was bathed in the light from inside. A couple of days old pizza wrapped in aluminum foil and a few cans of soda were all that was inside. Grabbing the food, she muttered under her breath, "At least I've got pizza." Turning around, she kicked the fridge door closed behind her and put down her haul on the table. Sitting down, she turned so she could keep an eye on both the door and the window. One for safety, the other for the entrancing view of the street lights shining in through the blinds.

Pulling the laser pistol close to her on the table, special operative Kilroy began her meal and the long wait for extraction.


	26. Chapter 25: Whatever it takes

Chapter 25: Whatever it takes

The hangar bay doors above closed with a resounding clang as the Skyranger made its landing and the ramp started to lower. Curious operatives looked on from the upper level of the hangar bay as the XCOM counter-terrorism squad returned from their first deployment against EXALT. The operatives burst into cheers and applause as the squad marched out of the Skyranger, special operative Kilroy smiling widely in her civilian clothes in the center of the uniformed formation.

"Brought her back safely! Didn't I tell you so?" squad leader Cell exclaimed, the South African gunner striding at the head of the formation with autolaser resting casually over her shoulders. The woman was of impressive size, not quite as tall as Daishi but definitely wider of brawn. Kilroy grimaced and shouted her denial, "Barely! This is the last fucking time I leave base without kevlar." The assault was holding onto her side where an EXALT operative had winged her during extraction. She was lucky the shot hadn't connected squarely, or she might not be grinning with her comrades in high spirits.

A member of the XCOM intelligence team walked up to the formation and Kilroy slung the bag containing the laptop and valuable data over her shoulder. Offering the goods to the man, she spoke with a glimmer in her eye, "Better not drop it guy. You have no idea what I went through to get that." Leaning against Hunterhr's shoulder, Kilroy let out a small grunt of pain as they started up the stairs to the upper level and towards the medbay.

* * *

><p>"Zim did? No way. Whole country gone because somebody overslept…goddamn. What did they do with her?" Kilroy was sitting on the edge of Drake's bed in the medbay, her gunshot wound tended to. Both women were wearing white patient's gowns and Drake, whose bed was propped up to allow for a sitting position, answered her friend, "They froze her allowance for two weeks for breaking the rules and missing duty. But the commander took full responsibility for the loss of South Africa, he said he should've just made a replacement and dispatched the squad sooner."<p>

Kilroy shook her head in disbelief, letting out a small laugh. "And how did Zim react?" the assault asked. Drake closed her eyes and placed a hand over her mouth, letting out a giggle before speaking up in an amused tone, "She said the sleep she got out of it was worth every penny and South Africa to boot. You can imagine Cell and co didn't take too kindly to that." Kilroy let out a surprised whistle before muttering, "She always was one crazy girl."

Drake leaned back against the bed and the pillows behind her, absentmindedly scratching at her chest, "Yeah that was some seriously dark humor. Or at least I hope she was joking! You never know with that one." Kilroy switched her position on the edge so she could look Drake in the eye. With a soft tone, she asked her friend, "How're you doing? They treating you alright here lil' sis?"

Smiling a crestfallen smile, Drake lifted her gaze to the ceiling of the room, "Yeah, no problems with the treatment. Been getting a lot of visitors too to keep my spirits up. Merlin and Kungtotte come by at least once a day and I see the assault crew at the ops training. But goddamn if I'm not getting sick of staring at this ceiling." Drake ran a hand through her dark hair, closing her eyes and drawing a stuttering breath before continuing in a pained tone, "Month and a half, Kilroy. With no end in sight. Seeing our friends die and then getting locked in here…" Drake's voice trailed off as she held her hand in her hair, steadying her emotions.

Kilroy placed a hand on her shoulder, looking down at the bed and giving her friend her quiet support. They sat just like that for a while, and Kilroy's thoughts returned to the covert operation, and the face of the dead boy. Closing her eyes, she shook her head trying to banish the vision. Swallowing loudly, she turned to Drake.

"Drake?" Kilroy muttered. Looking up at her friend, Drake inquired what was on her mind. Staring at the wall behind the bed, Kilroy took a deep breath before speaking her mind, "We'll do whatever it takes to protect this Earth, right Drake?" Tilting her head to the side and pushing up from the bed slightly, a worried look appeared in Drake's eyes. "Kilroy? What's wrong?" she asked.

Turning her eyes to meet Drake's, Kilroy repeated, "Whatever it takes, Drake. We'll do whatever it takes, right?" Drake's furrowed brow smoothed out as she leaned back against the bed. Taking Kilroy's hand in hers, she gave it a reassuring squeeze, answering her friend solemnly, "Whatever it takes, Kilroy."

Turning her eyes away from her friend, Kilroy stared at the tiled floor. Under her breath, she muttered the words of her outfit, the solemn oath she had given for her planet and its people:

"_Vigilo Confido."_


	27. Chapter 26: Dedication

Chapter 26: Dedication

Kamikaze walked through the hillside shaded by tall pine trees all around. With autolaser at the ready, he was scanning for alien activity on the landed UFO site. The wrecks of three drones lay in the ground behind them as Renzol had led them through the first encounter at the AO. The rocketeer at the head of the formation signaled for the squad to split up, and Kamikaze joined his leader in scaling the small hillock to their left alongside private Burncycle and specialist Hawkeye, the squad's combat medic, while Squint, Doubleumc and Morgan veered to the right, ready to move around the hillock.

Another low grunt echoed through the woods, and Renzol signaled for her support team to halt their advance, pressing up against the hillock. "We don't know what's out there. Be ready for anything", the rocketeer muttered in a low voice and Kamikaze responded with a solemn nod. Climbing up to the top of the rise, Kamikaze laid eyes on a horrifying sight.

Three huge figures clad in heavy green armor stood amidst the trees. Low guttural noises emanated from their throats as they parleyed amongst themselves, their mouths covered by gas mask-like tubes. Renzol signaled for everyone to get in position, taking aim on the new and undoubtedly dangerous species of alien. "Look out!" came the shout from Burncycle as Renzol was about to give the command to open fire. Plasma rained down from the tree tops as a solitary floater took aim on the squad leader.

Ducking her head down from the lookout's attack, Renzol cowered behind her tree. The mutons below wheeled around, their tiny, pig-like eyes sunken deep into their chiseled faces and burning with bloodlust. Rushing towards the squad, they took cover behind the trees and rocks of the forest, opening fire. Pulling back from the assault, Kamikaze ducked behind a rock, their surprise attack tattered and in ruins.

"We need help over here!" came the frantic shout from Renzol as she pressed up against her tree, slinging her rocket launcher into the ground in front of her. The voice of Squint from downhill reached Kamikaze's ears as she prepared to draw fire. Peeking out from behind his rock, Kamikaze saw the little lady take off towards the enemy.

No sooner had she left her cover than the mutons turned their attention to her. Their plasma carbines were blasting high-powered energy at the scout and Squint ducked under the first barrage. Stumbling a little, she looked to veer to the side. Instead, she dashed straight into the second shot. Without a sound, the small scout tumbled over, coming to a halt on the hillside, her limbs spread out limply around her. A sharp cry of denial rang in the woods as Renzol fired her rocket, the backblast sending a gust of soil and grass in Kamikaze's face. The rocket connected, and the blast of the high explosive sent one of the alien's cover up in a barrage of rocks and debris.

The rest of the squad hadn't let Squint's sacrifice go to waste either. Hawkeye dashed up from behind Kamikaze, taking cover in front of Renzol and burning a hole through the coverless muton's forehead, the big creature collapsing in a heap of massive armor and thick limbs. Downhill Morgan dashed up, firing her scatter laser on the move. The prismatic rays of energy struck a muton in its flank, piercing through its armor and throwing the beast down on the ground.

Through it all, Kamikaze had his autolaser steadied on the rock, wiping dust and dirt from his eyes. Aiming between the trees, he saw the remaining muton take off, falling back from their ruthless counterattack. Pulling the trigger, Kamikaze sent a rapidly pulsing beam towards the alien's back, the supercooling systems of the big weapon bursting to life and filling his ears with its howling. The barrage set fire to a tree and mowed down several bushes, but the big alien ducked its head down and ran away, the floater from above following suit.

"Push on!" Renzol screamed, dashing up alongside Hawkeye with her shatterray shouldered. The squad fired at the retreating aliens, the bright red beam lasers illuminating the shadows below the tree tops as Kamikaze got up from behind his rock, scrambling downhill towards Squint and the UFO behind her. Morgan yelled a warning as four seekers arrived to reinforce the defenders of the alien craft and plasma filled the air as the enemy turned back from their retreat, the tide of the battle swung around once more.

Kamikaze took cover behind a rock next to the hillside. Glancing up, he saw the enemy dug in across from them, a blast of high-energy whizzing past his head. Ducking behind the rock, he turned his gaze to Squint, only meters away from his position, out on the open hillside. The scout's chest heaved slightly up and down, and Kamikaze gritted his teeth together, still cowering from the relentless fire on his position.

_I wouldn't be here if not for Iku… what kind of a man am I if I let her bleed out? _Clenching his teeth together, Kamikaze slung his autolaser onto his back. With a primal roar the gunner stood up, pushing past the plasma flying in the air and towards the small woman bleeding out on a patch of grass in the rocky hillside.

Crashing to his knees next to Squint, Kamikaze pulled out the first aid kit from his belt. Slinging its contents on the ground, he pulled off one of his gloves and leaned in close to Squint's face. Her features were surprisingly peaceful, with strands of light brown hair curled up on her cheeks. Placing a hand on her neck, Kamikaze leaned in closer, listening.

Pulling to an upright position, the man gritted his teeth and grabbed the epinephrine needle. Tossing away the cover he slammed the needle into Squint's chest. The blasts of plasma and fizzing of lasers filled the air as the battle continued to rage on around him. Leaning over Squint, Kamikaze threw the needle aside and massaged the scout's chest roughly, willing her heart to beat again. Searing pain shot through his body as a plasma barrage connected with his back. With a muffled grunt, Kamikaze fell on the ground, covering Squint's body with his own.

Clenching his eyes shut, Kamikaze fought against the pain. With a massive roar, he rose to his knees and brought his fist down hard on Squint's chest. Shouting out his pain and frustration, he lifted his fist and slammed it down again. And again. And again. With a jerk and a small sputtering cough, Squint stirred on the ground as her heart kick-started itself. Leaning over and grabbing the woman from under her arms, Kamikaze ignored the cries of dismay from the squad as more floaters joined the battle from the UFO.

A massive blast shook the branches above as Renzol's rocket destroyed two of the seekers ready to strike Kamikaze down. With a determined grimace, Kamikaze dragged Squint towards the rocks behind him. Keeping the small woman's body low and close to the ground, Kamikaze made himself the bigger target as he dragged her towards safety.

The air in front of him rippled slightly as a seeker materialized out of thin air. Dropping Squint down, Kamikaze shouted a desperate denial, dashing towards the mechanical creature. It accepted the gunner with a welcoming embrace, its tentacles closing around Kamikaze, crushing his body and pushing the air out of his lungs.

Two precise laser shots flew through the shaded woods. The energy striking the seeker in the back, the alien squirmed out into the air, smoke rising around it as it tried to conceal itself. A quick burst of small laser rays struck the robot, sending it spiraling through the air and crashing into the ground in a tangled mess of wires and circuitry. Stumbling backwards, Kamikaze struggled for air, picking up the helpless Squint once again. His lungs burning and eyes darkening with the lack of oxygen, Kamikaze stumbled the last few steps to cover, laying the woman down and crashing against a rock, desperately gasping for air.

* * *

><p>Renzol gritted her teeth as she fired the shatterray at the floaters charging her squad from the UFO. Loud blasting from the hillside to her right announced Kamikaze's return to the fight, a massive burst of laser rays spraying out into the air, causing one of the floaters to spin around wildly as it tried to get away from the suppressive fire. On her left, Morgan bounced from rocks to logs, laying down floater after floater with her scatter laser.<p>

Cold sweat broke on Renzol's forehead as ever more floaters kept emerging from the UFO, this pack lead by the fearsome figure of a solitary muton. Shouting the order to fall back, Renzol turned away from the sight of plasma fire raining down towards Kamikaze's and Squint's position. Burncycle and Hawkeye followed their squad leader as she reloaded on the run, climbing up the side of the hillock where their battle had begun.

A barrage of plasma struck the tree next to her, sending splinters of wood into the air. Slipping to the ground, Renzol scrambled frantically towards the trees uphill. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the enemy in hot pursuit: a muton running wildly through the underbrush of the forest with three floaters barreling forwards with it. Morgan dived into cover behind one of the trees on the hillock below her, and Renzol shouted for her to throw the squad's last flashbang. Pulling the pin the assault complied, catching the charging enemy in a massive explosion of white light.

Renzol wasted no time getting into cover behind a tree and taking aim on the enemy's leader. The hulking beast stumbled forwards unsteadily, covering its eyes with one massive arm. The shatterray let out a series of rapid pulses, and the lasers tore into the alien's chest. Letting out a massive roar not in pain but in fury, the creature pushed on towards them, smashing its fist into a nearby tree, sending large splinters spinning through the shaded air.

_How do you fight that? There's nothing I can do,_ the helpless thought of a young and weak girl flashed in her mind. Biting into her cheek, the taste and smell of blood rushed Renzol's senses. The muton kept on coming, driven forwards by its insatiable blood lust. Another laser shot from Burncycle struck the creature, doing nothing to slow it down. Swinging its carbine wildly towards Morgan, the muton shot the assault in her flank. Morgan yelled out in pain, trying to bring her scatter laser to face the enemy in time.

_I fear nothing. I am nothing. _The shatterray in her hands pulsed and the hulking monstrosity spun around, letting out a final muffled howl before disappearing into the undergrowth of the hillside. The disoriented floaters were firing wildly at their position in support of their now-dead leader's charge, but Morgan stepped out from behind her tree regardless, a determined grimace on her face. Scatter laser blasting, another one of their enemies fell under the shade of the pine trees.

Reloading her shatterray, Renzol looked on as one of the floaters turned tail and ran. A sudden explosion of laser fire from behind her signaled Kamikaze had rejoined them on the hillock, pinning the last floater behind a rock. Burncycle took full advantage of the opportunity, sprinting forwards and drilling a laser shot through the alien's head.

"Push the advantage!" the commanding shout rang in the air and for a moment, Renzol wondered who was leading the operation. She felt like she was looking in on the fight from somewhere far away and as Hawkeye followed the orders, dashing up and dropping a floater emerging from the doorway of the UFO, Renzol realized it was her own voice.

The squad moved up and spread out across the gently sloping hillside behind the pine trees, Doubleumc sticking on the hillock to their right to cover their flank. Muffled groans from the UFO signaled the arrival of ever more floaters. Hawkeye fired her laser rifle, and another one fell. "Good fucking job Hawkeye! We're gonna transfer you to the infantry corps, you're a goddamn waste as a medic!" the shout rang over the squad, and Renzol still couldn't believe it was her own voice. She was possessed, and as the rest of the floaters charged, the shatterray in her hands came to life.

Swooping in from above the UFO, a floater took aim at the rocketeer. Renzol stepped out of cover, firing at the enemy. The rapid pulses glanced the alien in its jets and disfigured shoulders, sending it swooping unstably in the air with the plasma fire from its carbine flying harmlessly over Renzol's head. The rest of the aliens joined the charge, plasma flying towards her squad. "Hold steady boys and girls! We are taking this one home!" another encouraging shout echoed in the shades of the pine trees. A laser shot from Burncycle struck one of the floaters and Renzol quickly veered her aim from the wildly flying one, a rapid burst of high energy dropping the alien on top of the UFO.

The floaters retaliated, a plasma barrage striking Hawkeye as she was stepping out to fire. Pulling back into cover the medic screamed in pain, holding onto her shoulder and falling to the ground against the tree. Renzol stared at the woman, the words of encouragement stuck somewhere deep inside her. _Speak, goddammit! Lead your people you worthless piece of shit!_

From somewhere far away, Burncycle howled in agony as the enemy pushed on. Another plasma barrage came down on Hawkeye, striking the woman from behind and sending her sprawling on the ground, a sizzling hole in her back. Tears of frustration rose to Renzol's eyes as she watched Hawkeye die, and she bit into her cheek once again. Screaming wildly, she pushed out from behind her tree.

The floater that had killed Hawkeye brought its carbine around, sending a salvo of plasma fire towards Renzol. Dropping to one knee, she dodged the plasma and reloaded her shatterray. Quickly taking aim, Renzol responded in kind. The shatterray in her hands stuttered and the alien let out a muffled howl as it dropped down to the ground. Another one flew in on her right, and Renzol brought her weapon around. Striking the alien with another burst of high energy, the floater crashed into the hillside. Taking off back up into the air, the creature's flight was cut short by Doubleumc as she fired her laser rifle.

Renzol reloaded again, pushing towards the alien craft with Doubleumc. A muton rushed from the side door of the UFO, limping badly and growling in anger. Renzol fired her shatterray, missing the exposed alien. Screaming out in frustration, Renzol watched on as the alien sent a hail of energy towards Doubleumc. The private ducked under the fire and retaliated, burning a hole through the creature with her laser rifle.

More floaters kept on coming, and the squad's weapons fired wildly. Renzol was in a haze; hitting shots, missing shots, killing a floater, not killing a floater, engaging an outsider, not engaging an outsider. All of it blended together as they stood in line against the remaining enemies. Until finally, the UFO landing site was silent.

* * *

><p>Kamikaze was lying face down in his bed, fighting against sleep. His back was on fire after the injuries he had taken. It would be so easy to give in to the painkillers and let the abyss take over, drifting off into blissful sleep. But Kamikaze struggled on, forcing his eyes open whenever they started to slump. <em>I have to know, <em>the thought circling around in his head, denying him his rest.

He didn't know how long it had been. It must have been hours, but it felt like an eternity. Biting into his cheek to force away the weariness, he was a man possessed. His mind was in a daze and not thinking straight, but it all seemed to make sense to him: everything hung on this one thing, and one thing only. _I have to know._

Finally, after what had felt like a lifetime, he heard the doors to the operation room slide open. From behind him came the steady steps of a nurse and the rattling of wheels. Tensing his neck and peeling his eyes open in his feverish state, Kamikaze saw them enter his sights. The nurse wheeled the bed around, setting it against a screen close to Kamikaze before taking off back the way she had come.

The man let out a deep breath, his body finally relaxing and his head going limp against the pillow below him. He gazed at the woman lying in the bed next to him. Squint's features were gentle under the oxygen mask. The EKG next to her was beeping steadily, and the woman's expression looked almost serene in her slumber. Her arms were crossed over her chest and a few locks of hair framed her face, the rest of them spread out over her pillow. _Like sleeping beauty,_ a delirious thought crossed over Kamikaze's weary mind.

He stared at the sight in front of him, eyes slowly slumping. With no more need to fight, he let the sleep take him. Drifting off to unconsciousness, the last thing on Kamikaze's mind was the serene, beautiful face of the woman he had fought so hard to save.


	28. Chapter 27: Favorite son of Doorn City

Chapter 27: Favorite son of Doorn City

Author's note: Van Doorn was and always will be American. Just because his name has "Van" in it doesn't automatically make him Dutch Johnnylump and Amineri :C

* * *

><p>The man was crouching behind a banged-up red SUV, green plasma burns decorating the hood and roof of the car. Wearing only a simple UN ballistic vest for armor over his uniform and holding an empty pistol in his hand, the man had a determined and slightly amused grin on his face. Brow furrowed and teeth gritted together, General Van Doorn peeked out from behind the SUV.<p>

"Yeah, you want to get some of this?" the shout rang across the devastated highway. The thin man responded with a barrage of plasma and the big man ducked his head down. Jumping up, he pointed the empty weapon at the alien, causing it to pull back behind the wrecked car it was hiding behind. With a booming laugh, Van Doorn dropped down and leaned his back against the car once again.

The UN general had been caught in a devastating sneak attack by the alien invaders. His convoy had been reduced to a burning wreckage and most of his men had died fighting an uphill battle against the overwhelming enemy. But if you know the man they call the Doorninator and the Doom Van, you'd know he doesn't give up. Not even against overwhelming odds.

A rapid series of steps emerged from the back of the SUV. Spinning around towards the enemy, Van Doorn saw a single thin man poke its head out from the back of the car, carbine at the ready. Lunging towards the enemy, Van Doorn let out a roar and made himself as big as he could. The alien cowered, and the general grabbed onto its thin arm. Swinging hard, he brought the creature crashing against the side of the big vehicle. Arms and legs flailing like wet noodles, the thin man was no match for the Doorn. Spinning around like an Olympic hammer thrower, Van Doorn sent the alien flying off the highway, its spectacled eyes wide with wonder as it met its doom.

A rapid series of red laser fire emerged from the ledge of the highway behind Van Doorn. Seeing figures clad in unknown uniform firing weapons of a technology level he had never seen, Van Doorn shouted into the night, "You the ops team? Get over here! Not fair if I have all the fun!" Seeing another thin man dash towards the SUV, the Doorn jumped up and sent his empty pistol flying at the alien at incredible speed. The firearm-turned-boomerang buried into the creature's head, causing it to pull off a perfect backflip before lying still on the highway. The operatives uphill exchanged looks of dismay with each other and Van Doorn let out another booming laugh.

Another thin man dashed up to the other side of the SUV, and the soldiers behind him tossed a flashbang through the air. Yelling out in surprise, Van Doorn closed his eyes as he was caught in the flash, ears ringing and retinas burning. Squinting his eyes, he saw an attractive blonde get ready to toss a grenade towards the alien. "Hey, over here!" the Doorn yelled, stretching his arms out while blinking away furiously. The grenade flew through the air and Van Doorn caught it, like a footballing muton in the end zone.

"TOUCHDOWN!" the American hero yelled, jumping up into the air and slamming the grenade down over the hood of the SUV. The anti-personnel grenade exploded and the thin man shrieked in horror as the fragments tore apart its disgusting xeno body.

The blonde from before scrambled down the sloping highway as the rest of the squad fired at the enemy across the battlefield. The woman took cover next to him, looking at him with her blue eyes, "General Van Doorn?" she inquired. The big man answered, "In the flesh. And even I couldn't have held them off forever, so thank you for coming to my help. A lot of my boys aren't breathing anymore, so make sure you take out every last one of these bastards!"

Looking up towards the squad, the big man continued on, "So we heading for extraction? Fine by me. Nice pass by the way! You'd make a great quarterback." Starting the climb up the ramp, Van Doorn missed the perplexed look on Stoli's face as she muttered under her breath, "Pass? You just jumped to catch it off the air…"

Getting up the ramp, Van Doorn took cover behind a piece of concrete lying on the ground. Next to him a smug-looking Latino with lieutenant's insignia on his shoulder was firing at the enemy. Leaning in closer to inspect his laser rifle, the Doorn let out an impressed whistle. "I don't know what outfit you're from, but I haven't seen gear like THAT before", he commented. The soldier gave him a puzzled sideways glance and quipped, "I'm kinda busy here old man. Can't you see?"

With a booming laugh Van Doorn slapped the man in the back, causing him to lunge toward the edge of ridge. Scubaman cursed loudly and put out a hand to steady himself on the concrete block. "You seem to be doing just fine there, sonny! Keep up the good fight!" the Doorn exclaimed, taking off towards the back of the squad. Looking back over his shoulder Scubaman stared at the general, his mouth hanging open and for once the man was without a comeback.

Van Doorn pushed up against the back of a large military truck as more thin men dropped down around them. "Goddamn piece of shit thin men not playing fair again!" a Mexican woman screamed from the edge of the truck, firing her laser rifle at the enemy. Van Doorn peeked out from behind her back, staring towards the aliens taking cover down the road. "Yeah, you got that right", the General agreed, causing the woman to glance over her shoulder in surprise. "Get the hell back in cover! What the fuck are you doing?" the female operative shouted in a heated tone, drawing another loud laugh from the Doorn.

"Quite the temper you've got there! I like that! A soldier's got to have heart!" Van Doorn shouted, giving her helmet a tap before dashing towards a large SUV in front of them. Scubaman joined Merlin at the truck and the woman cocked her head to the side, giving him an incredulous look. Scubaman raised his eyebrows and puckered his lower lip, joining Merlin in her disbelief with a small shrug.

With the last of the xeno-scum mopped up, Van Doorn walked up to the Skyranger. Turning to the ops team he spoke in a solemn tone, "I owe you one. Seriously, I wouldn't BE here without your help. Now where do I sign up?" Scubaman glanced around his people with a puzzled look on his face before voicing everyone's disbelief, "Uhhh, sign up sir? You're a motherfucking general, pardon my French." Turning around and barking up a laugh, Van Doorn scaled the ramp into the Skyranger. Over his shoulder he shouted, "I'm gonna get another shot at these bastards! I owe it to my men."

* * *

><p><em>A few days later<em>

The hallway in front of the main door leading up into the surface of the underground complex was filled with XCOM operatives. People were whispering and arguing with each other, many raising their voices in disbelief. "It's a waste of time I say! No way is this bullshit rumor true!" the shout of Merlin rang over the crowd as she argued with the people around her. "I bet the commander's just fucking with us", came the comment from Cell as she picked through her nails with her pocket knife. "Fuck me I hope it's true! I wanna see this guy after what I heard!" Wolfer exclaimed in his usual loud fashion, drawing looks from the people around him.

With a hiss the massive machinery of the blast door came to life, and the locking mechanisms clanged as they released themselves. The door began inching its way upwards and the crowd pushed forwards, base security personnel yelling for them to stand behind the red line. Everyone craned their necks as they struggled to see over the heads of their fellow operatives.

From the crack between the door and the floor, the legs of a solitary figure came to sight. Mumbling filled the hall as the door continued its ascent, now showing the jeans belonging to a man of respectable size and a duffel bag hanging next to them. Torso clad in a simple sweater and a stylish yet modest coat followed, until finally the face of a middle aged, bald Caucasian man came into the sights of the XCOM personnel. Stepping into the base, Van Doorn smiled widely as he lifted his hand and opened his mouth in greeting:

"Is this where I get to slay the xeno-scum?"


	29. Chapter 28: Red Fog

Chapter 28: Red fog

Author's note: So there was a bit of a misunderstanding on my part. Out of the three other starting South Africans aside from Wolfer, DSM and Cell are white while Kungtotte is black. For some reason, I always assumed Wolfer was white as well. Turns out, he just wears a helmet during every other operation except the covert op and what do you know, he was black after all. But the thing is, I already have written him out as being white and while it might not seem like a big deal, it actually REALLY matters for what I had planned for this covert op (as you will soon see), not to mention the whole picture of him that I have in my head. At this point I don't see any reason to change my plans, so there it is. Wolfer's white now. As for why the lengthy explanation when 99% of you probably wouldn't have even noticed; I don't want the remaining 1% to start throwing the r-word at me.

* * *

><p>The black minivan stood parked in a dark alleyway in the outskirts of Detroit. The neighborhood was home to a small gang of Neo-Nazis and the combined intelligences of the Council and XCOM had pinpointed their hideout to be the location of an EXALT cell. Their plans to carry out sabotage against XCOM had to be stopped; another hacked bank account would slow down the defense against the alien invaders considerably, not to mention the terrific prospect of losing valuable research data. Along with destroying the cell, one of the covert operation's goals was to gain access to additional information on the elusive terrorist organization in order to gain the upper hand in the war against terror. As if handling one of those wars wasn't already enough for XCOM.<p>

"Okay, I'm gonna say this one more time: don't fucking hold back. I'm gonna smash your faces in and break your necks if you do. These guys will know if you're faking it. Authenticity, boys", Wolfer whispered to the team of Council's agents gathered around him in the van. The massive assault had his head clean shaven and was wearing a bomber-style leather jacket over his shirt. Urban camo pants rounded off a sight you would not want to come across in the streets after dark. The four men around him muttered their acknowledgment: all of them dark-skinned individuals with two of them holding lead pipes. With one final glance around, Wolfer got out of the van.

Sliding the door shut quietly, Wolfer took off into the dark street. No one sane was out at this hour, but their surveillance had shown a patrol of gang members walk by every night. Stuffing his hands in his jacket, the big man started down the street. A lookout would signal the crew inside the van once the target would be close by.

Wolfer wasn't a man easily overcome by nervousness. Going into fights and battles had always been like a second nature for him; hell, it might have been his first nature! But doing a covert operation, now that's something completely different. But considering the target, he was the only candidate among the XCOM covert operatives and the commander had signaled his full confidence in the South African's capabilities.

With the slightest bit of pressure in the pit of his stomach, Wolfer walked down the street. _It'll be gone when the fighting starts,_ the man reassured himself. And as if on cue, the screech of wheels came from behind him as the headlights of the van bore down on him. Turning around, Wolfer covered his eyes with a raised arm. The van speeded towards him and came to a drifting halt across the road, the doors sliding open as four dark figures jumped out into the street.

"Fucking niggers!" Wolfer roared, charging the first man coming at him. With a sharp jab, he caught the man squarely on the nose. The attacker was taken by surprise, screaming out loud as a sickening crunch and a spray of blood indicated a broken nose. An angry thought crossed Wolfer's mind. _What did I fuckin' tell ya?_

Turning to the next attacker, Wolfer lifted an arm to block the swing of a lead pipe. The weapon crashed across his arm, rattling his nerves and drawing a grunt of pain from the big man. But his other arm followed up, burrowing into the attacker's gut and causing him to double over. A lead pipe struck him in the shin from behind, and the big man fell down on one knee with a roar of anger.

Wheeling around, Wolfer saw the man begin to raise his weapon for another strike. Grabbing the pipe before he could do so, Wolfer pulled hard on the weapon. The man came lunging at him and the assault crashed his forehead into the black man's face, sending him stumbling backwards and wrestling the pipe for himself.

Another strike from a pipe landed on his back, this one in absolute full force. Shouting in pain Wolfer fell forwards, trying to spin around on the ground. A kick landed in his side and then another one, and the man curled up, dropping the pipe and pulling his arms to cover the back of his head. A dozen or so more strikes landed before the men around him yelled it was time to leave, and the hits finally stopped. Screeching tires accompanied their retreat as Wolfer gingerly got up to one knee.

His sides were aching and the arm which he had used to block the lead pipe was screaming at him. Looking up with a pained grimace, Wolfer saw two men running towards him. Sporting leather jackets and shaven heads, it looked like their bait had been taken.

Pushing his head down, Wolfer cursed loudly as he steadied himself with one arm. "Hey you alright man? What did the niggas want with you?" one of the men called over as they drew closer. Glancing up at the approaching men, Wolfer drew in a deep breath. _This is it. Don't fuck up._

"What does a nigger ever want with you? Do they need an excuse to beat up a white man?" the assault boomed, staring intently at the men approaching him. The bangers exchanged a look and walked up to Wolfer. Helping him up to his feet, one of them uttered his agreement while the other one eyed Wolfer up and down.

"What are you doing here? I've never seen you around here", the skeptical one inquired, his pierced brow furrowed over a pair of suspicious eyes. The man's face was narrow and sly and reminded Wolfer of a weasel.

Grunting in pain and rubbing his wounded arm, Wolfer answered, "I just got into town and heard there might be some folks who share my ideology around here." Turning to the man, Wolfer easily stood a head above the banger. Looking down with hard eyes he leaned in closer, lowering his voice, "Did I hear wrong?"

Regarding Wolfer with some concern in his eyes, the pierced banger turned to his partner. Receiving a nod of approval from his companion, the man looked back to Wolfer. "Okay, we'll take you to Lamont. What's your name, stranger?" the man finally spoke up.

"Havoc", Wolfer gave his fake name, shaking the men's hands as they uttered theirs. Limping slightly, the big man followed his new acquaintances back the way they had come from.

Passing by many old apartment buildings and a few stores, the men finally arrived at an old two story building that had probably housed multiple stores in the past. Now it was used as a shelter by the worst kind of human trash, and the appearance did nothing to hide the fact. Wolfer wrinkled his nose slightly as he approached the building, the shabby exterior only a small improvement over a crack house. Pushing in through the front door, the two guards posted inside stopped them.

"Yo, who's the new guy?" one of the guards asked. The man was fat and huge, almost as tall as Wolfer and well wider. His escorts explained what had happened, and the guard signaled for Wolfer to spread his arms and legs. The covert operative complied as the man patted him down roughly, drawing a sharp breath from Wolfer as the guard didn't give any consideration for his beaten sides. With a wave of his hand the guard sent them off and Wolfer bit back the desire to punch the man in his smug, plump face.

The interior of the building was a slight improvement over the outside: the corridors were relatively clean and the walls had been painted a faded yellow, only partially covering the old ripped wallpaper below. Walking through the corridors they made their way over to the back of the building. Through the open doorways he saw bangers gathered around tables, playing cards and drinking booze or just lounging around.

"How many people you got here?" the big man asked his escorts. The sly-faced escort, Taniseth, answered "Twenty-two. Twenty-three soon, I imagine you're wanting to stay, yes?" The man regarded Wolfer with a glimmer in his eyes and the big assault got the unnerving feeling he was onto him. Pushing such thoughts off his mind, Wolfer turned his eyes back towards the end of the corridor.

"We'll see what this boss of yours has to say", he answered as they came to the door. Taniseth gave the door a sharp knock and hollered out he had a new recruit. It took some time before a voice from inside answered. Taniseth pushed through the door, closing it behind him and Wolfer heard their muffled voices through the door, unable to make out what was said. Eventually, the door re-opened and the banger stepped out, regarding Wolfer with amused eyes and silently signaling for him to step inside.

The man sitting behind the table was a mean looking son of a bitch. His head was shaven and his black goatee hung long below his chin. The man was pierced at both eyebrows and lips, and his eyes were stone cold gray above his wrinkled mug. "Come on in", Lamont said with a cool voice, signaling for Wolfer to take the chair in front of him. Wolfer gave the man a nod and complied, closing the door behind him and walking across the room.

The room's walls were painted red and a massive bed stood in one corner. A naked woman of some forty years lay on the bed, apparently unabashed by her nakedness in front of a complete stranger. Her eyes were sunken and hollow and spoke of a long-standing drug addiction. She regarded the big man with mild curiosity in her eyes.

"So, you wanna join us?" Lamont asked from behind his desk as Wolfer seated himself. Looking the man in the eye, Wolfer gave his answer with an unwavering voice, "Well I was mostly looking for a place to crash at for a couple days. But seems like you've got a pretty sweet set-up here, so why not?"

The man stared at Wolfer with his hard eyes, responding in a quiet tone, "Why not indeed? We can always use more manpower, especially if they're as good at fighting as Taniseth made you out to be." The gang leader turned his head and looked over at the bed for a moment before returning his gaze to Wolfer and speaking up once again, "What's your story?"

Wolfer recited the backstory they had come up with: how he'd found out his girlfriend had cheated on him and he'd beaten the woman into hospital shape and killed the man who she had done it with. Fleeing across the border from Vancouver he had come to Detroit to start anew again. By the time he was done with, Lamont was nodding ever so slightly behind his desk.

"That's an interesting tale you've got there", the man uttered, taking a moment to stare Wolfer intently in the eye. The operative answered his stare, his chiseled features betraying nothing. With a sigh, the leader of the gang got up and turned towards the bed. "Taniseth will take you to the doc for inspection and recount you the rules of our little communion here. Respect them, and we'll come along just fine I have no doubt." Lamont ushered for him to get out while walking up to the bedside.

As Wolfer turned to head for the door, he was interrupted by the leader once more, "One last thing. Don't mess with the Suits. We don't ask them nothing and we don't disturb them, you got that?" Glancing over his shoulder, Wolfer voiced his acknowledgment and pushed out the door.

The men outside the room welcomed him into their gang with pats on the back and laughter. Wolfer responded in kind, but inside he felt sick right down to his guts. Looking at the men smiling next to him he got the sudden urge to grab their heads and bash them against the wall, spraying their brains and blood all over the tapestries. And then rinse and repeat for the rest of the scum inside. But instead he only grinned, following Taniseth through the corridors into the doctor's office.

Doctor and office were the overstatements of the year. It was a small room with a desk in the back and a chair in the middle and an old, shriveled man with disinterested eyes and horribly unkempt teeth. Wolfer took off his jacket and shirt as the presumed doctor poked at his wounds and bruises, all the while listening to the chatter of Taniseth as he explained the way of life in the gang. Wolfer responded with grunts of pain and agreement. Getting to the end of his explanations, the sly man noticed the tattoo of the assault's insignia on Wolfer's bicep. The black ink depicted an alien skull with slanted, oval eyes.

"Yo, cool tat man! What is it?" Taniseth inquired eagerly, leaning in closer to check out the simple yet professional work on Wolfer's skin. Wolfer flexed his muscles and the image moved along with the brawn below.

"Fuck the Chinaman", he uttered in a serious tone, drawing a quick puzzled look from Taniseth before the man exploded into cackling laughter. Wolfer got up and pulled his shirt over his head, covering the tattoo once again. _I need to be careful around EXALT,_ the man thought to himself as he got back out into the corridors with his new brother.

But EXALT never came. Wolfer got into the daily cycle of things inside the gang of Neo-Nazis, learning the ropes and pecking orders around the base. The closest thing he ever saw to EXALT was the door at the end of one corridor, always guarded by two bangers. The Council's agents had caught wind of the cell through sightings of an EXALT field squad in the Detroit area. Pinpointing them into the gang's hideout had been a lot harder, with minimal traffic in and out of the building. They had identified a total of four different EXALT operatives entering and leaving the building, with usually only two or three inside at any given time.

Wolfer had tried asking around about the Suits during card games and drinking nights. Nobody really knew anything about them or their schedules, and few wanted to guess. Apparently EXALT paid the gang well and most of the bangers respected their boss enough to keep their mouth shut if he told them to. However, Wolfer did learn that guard duty on their door was a total pain-in-the-ass and considered the lowest of assignments around, yet it was still only given to proven gang members.

It was three days after his acceptance into the gang when Wolfer went out on patrol with two other bangers and Taniseth. It was basic patrolling around their turf like any other night. Except this night, they found a trespasser.

"Yo look, what do we have here?" Taniseth whispered to Wolfer as a solitary figure stepped out into their sights from an intersection up ahead. The street lights illuminated a black man in his twenties with his hoodie up over his head, turning away from the group and walking down the street, oblivious to his surroundings and the fact he had strayed into the wrong neighborhood. A chill ran down Wolfer's spine as he looked over at Taniseth, the man now smirking as he popped his fingers and regarded the back of the man ahead of them.

The bangers picked up the pace as they walked down the street, Taniseth turning to Wolfer and signaling for him to keep up. Taking a deep breath, Wolfer took a few long strides to catch up with the group. A heavy lump materialized in the back of his throat as he stared at the man in front of them with wide eyes. _Fucking run, man. What the fuck are you doing out here?_

Steadily gaining ground on the hooded figure, Wolfer clenched his fists in anger. They were mere ten meters away now and there was no way the black man would get away. Wolfer squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled against the urge to pound the men next to him into a pulp. Opening his eyes and drawing a deep breath, he tensed his body as the bangers got ready to pounce. _No holding back. They'll notice._

Taniseth was the first to lunge forwards, the young man turning around as he realized all too late what was happening. The sly banger stomped on their victim's knee while grabbing onto the man's shoulder, drawing a surprised yell of pain as he fell over. And then they were all over him, legs kicking wildly and mouths spouting racial slurs and insults as the black man curled up helplessly on the asphalt. And Wolfer was with them.

A red fog filled his eyes as he stomped on the helpless man. His face was twisted into a horrific grimace as he shouted his hatred out. The words coming out of his mouth were foul and despicable and the anger was real. Wolfer was furious with himself, and at the men next to him. Taking that anger, he turned it towards the helpless man lying on the ground. It was the most convincing of performances, and as the man on the ground stopped moving and the other bangers got ready to leave, Wolfer was the last to stop kicking. Looking up with burning eyes, the other skinheads recoiled away from the sight before letting out booming laughs. The men congratulated Wolfer on his hatred for the nigger, and the assault glanced back down once more.

The young man was lying on the ground. He wasn't moving and a massive tear in his head was slowly leaking blood into a small pool below him. "He dead?" Wolfer asked, his chest heaving up and down with heavy breathing.

"Does it matter? The nigga learned his lesson, one way or the other!" one of the men exclaimed cheerfully and the group turned around to head back to their hideout and away from the crime scene. Wolfer stared at the man a while longer and another shout came from behind him, "Yo Havoc, you wanna finish the job or are you gonna come?"

Turning around, Wolfer steeled himself and joined the men as they returned. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he regarded the people in front of him. A sick twisting was rising in his stomach and looking at the scum in front of him only made it worse. _I'm gonna kill every single one of you before this is over, _an inner voice rang in his head. Closing his eyes for a moment summoned back the image of the man, spread out on the asphalt, bleeding away. _What, so are you gonna kill yourself too? _Another voice answered, and Wolfer gritted his teeth in anger.

It was the next day when they announced Wolfer would be on guard duty. The bangers sarcastically congratulated the newcomer on his promotion and Wolfer answered their camaraderie with grins and laughs. Inside, he was boiling. The moment would finally come and he would be able to get this over with, one way or the other. His post was next morning with Taniseth and as the day came to a close, Wolfer excused himself out of the hideout and into the streets.

Walking up to the side of an old auto repair shop some five blocks away from the hideout, the operative made his way to a trashcan on the side of the building. One of the council's agents drove the garbage truck that worked the area, and Wolfer reached into the trashcan. Pulling out the walkie-talkie taped into the side of the trashcan, Wolfer glanced around before making his way into the back of the closed repair shop.

Setting the frequency, the big man talked into the phone, "Soulstep here. Do you read me?" There was a pause of about ten seconds before the phone buzzed to life, a female voice responding on the line, "This is Mother Mary, I read you Soulstep. What's going on?"

"I'm going loud tomorrow at 0600 hours. Make sure the big boys are ready to back me up at extraction after that. Do you copy?" Wolfer stared off into the dark alleyways as he waited for the response. Getting the acknowledgment, he signed off and brought the walkie-talkie hard to his knee, smashing it to pieces. Tossing the broken gadget back into the trash, he took off back towards the hideout.

The night was a restless one as Wolfer ran the extraction plan in his head, over and over again. When he finally tried to sleep, the young black man lying on the asphalt returned to haunt him. So instead he just lied in his bed, hands behind his head, waiting. Until finally, it was time for his shift.

Getting up from his bunk, he joined a sleepy Taniseth in the junction leading up to the EXALT's door. Yawning widely, the sly man complained as they walked up to the night guards. It was 4 am and their shift would last until 10 am. Switching shifts, the relieved guards passed their pieces to Wolfer and Taniseth, taunting them as they took off. Leaning against the wall, Wolfer regarded the door silently. It didn't even have a lock on it; EXALT really seemed to be smug and overly confident with their ability to manipulate other people to do their bidding. Wolfer smiled slightly as he thought towards 6 am.

Taniseth continued his complaining the entire morning, his whiny tone and weasel-like features growing ever more on the big assault's nerves. Until finally, his clock struck 0600 hours. Turning to Taniseth, Wolfer smiled a heartfelt smile.

"Taniseth?" the big man inquired. The banger glanced up at Wolfer with surprised eyes, having gotten used to the man's silence during the morning shift. Wolfer grinned from ear to ear as he continued, "I've got something I wanna give ya." Turning to the big man face-to-face, the small Nazi's response was cut off as Wolfer's hand closed around his throat.

A disbelieving look appeared into the banger's eyes as his arms instinctively jumped up to the hand around his throat. With his other hand, Wolfer snagged the pistol from the man's pocket, clicking his tongue disapprovingly as the man tried to reach for the gun, incoherent gurgling emanating from his mouth. Tossing the pistol to the ground, Wolfer closed his other hand around Taniseth's throat and lifted him from the ground.

Pushing him against the wall, Wolfer's thumbs pressed into his throat, sinking in as if he was kneading bread. Taniseth's windpipe let out a sickening crunch as it collapsed under the pressure, and the man's eyes bulged out, legs drumming against the wall helplessly. Wolfer's face was twisted into a horrific grin as he let out all of the frustration, anger and violence pent up inside of him over the course of the operation. He pushed and pushed and pushed, and blood started to trickle down from Taniseth's mouth. His eyes turned back into his skull as the blood continued to run, until finally his legs stopped moving.

Dropping the man to the ground, Wolfer turned to the door. The red fog had settled over his vision once again and any semblance of covert actions had left his mind. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the room.

"Hey, you can't come in here!" an EXALT operative shouted from behind the desk in the middle of the room. In front of him was a high-tech laptop and a pile of files and folders spread out across the length of the table. His eyes moving from Wolfer to the dead man lying on the ground behind him, the terrorist's eyes widened as he reached for his pistol. He never had a chance.

Wolfer was on him in three lightning strides. Grabbing onto the man's vest, he jerked hard and the man came flying over the table. Crashing into the floor face-first, the EXALT operative lost his grip on his weapon, the pistol clattering across the room. Dropping his knees hard on the man's back, Wolfer slammed the air out of his lungs. The red fog was on him, and there was no stopping it.

Grabbing onto the man's head with both hands, Wolfer brought it up hard, the man exclaiming in pain as his torso twisted between the knees pushing him in the back and the hands pulling him up. With all his might, the assault crashed the man's head onto the floor. A hollow thud emanated from the floor boards as the man lost consciousness. Bringing his head up again, Wolfer slammed it down a second time. This time, a sickening crack rang in the room as the man's skull broke open. A low guttural noise echoed from Wolfer's mouth as he held back his shout, face twisted into a horrific mask and eyes blinded by the red fog. He brought the man's head up a third time. Putting all of his weight behind the slam, Wolfer lunged forwards and smashed the head into the ground, spraying blood and brains all over the floor and himself.

Not wasting any time he got up, dashing towards the door on the side. A voice from behind inquired what was going on. As the door opened and an EXALT operative stepped into the door frame with his pistol drawn, Wolfer was already on him.

Tackling the man from the waist, Wolfer threw himself and the terrorist into the next room. Crashing down on top of the EXALT operative, the man below him let out a muffled grunt as the wind was knocked out of him. Grabbing onto the hand holding the gun, Wolfer twisted hard. With a whimpering scream, the man let go of his gun as the bones in his wrist snapped. Bringing his head down hard, Wolfer smashed the terrorist's nose open.

Getting up to his knees, Wolfer brought down a massive fist on the man below him. And then another. And another. Blood flew in the air as Wolfer shouted silently, his mouth open and eyes wide. Pouring out everything from inside, the assault hammered down relentlessly, finally letting go. The red fog engulfed him completely as he lost sight of the room around him. Fists swinging, Wolfer was taken over by a bloodlust he had never even known existed within him.

Falling back from the disfigured and caved-in face of the EXALT, Wolfer glanced around the room with wide eyes. Finally coming to from his rage, he shuddered and drew in a deep breath. It was lucky there had only been two operatives in today and not three. He wasn't sure he would have noticed a third one before a bullet to the head would've alerted him to the fact.

Clambering up to his feet, Wolfer turned around back into the main room. Hurriedly getting to the table he reached for the laptop. Realizing the condition of his hands, the big man cursed under his breath and headed for the door leading into the corridor. Pulling the body of Taniseth inside he closed the door and wiped his hands on the banger's shirt. With most of the fresh blood wiped off, his hands were still absolutely caked with the stuff. Cursing again, Wolfer turned back towards the table.

Stuffing the laptop and the files into a bag lying on the table, Wolfer slung the strap over his shoulder. Checking he still had the pistol in his pocket he pulled out his knife. Stepping to the heavy back door, he released the lock.

The guards posted outside were completely oblivious to what had been going on inside. The room was well sound-proofed, which was likely the reason EXALT had chosen it to be their operation room in the first place. The man on his right turned around in surprise as the door swung open. Wolfer slashed, and blood sprayed out of the red gash on the man's throat. With a scream-turned-gurgle the man fell on his knees, desperately trying to plug the stream of blood with his hands.

Wheeling around to his left, Wolfer got ready to face the remaining guard. The Neo-Nazi had his pistol halfway drawn and Wolfer stepped close. Grabbing onto his wrist, he turned the gun away and buried the knife into the man's gut. Gazing into the man's face as it twisted in pain he noticed it was one of the men who had gone on patrol with him the other night. Turning the knife around in his stomach in satisfaction, Wolfer pulled it back and sunk the blade in again.

A gunshot rang in the early morning as the dying man managed to flick off the safety of his pistol. Cursing loudly Wolfer pulled the knife out and slit the man's throat from ear-to-ear. Another shot echoed into the air as the man fired aimlessly into the air. Tossing the banger unceremoniously aside, Wolfer took off in a heated run towards the chain-link fence of the backyard. Noticing the gate was locked he jumped on top of one of the cars parked against it and vaulted over the fence, dashing off into the streets behind.

Running his way through the streets and back alleys of Detroit, Wolfer made his way over to one of the numerous escape vehicles they had set up in the AO. Getting on top of the motorcycle in an abandoned shack, he pulled on a pair of leather gloves over his blood-caked hands and a helmet over his head. Kick starting the bike, he took off towards the extraction zone on the edge of the city.

Driving through the streets, the assault looked for signs of EXALT giving chase. The sun was shining down on the mostly empty streets, the lamp posts and buildings throwing long shadows as Detroit was about to burst to life. As Wolfer approached the extraction zone, black cars barreled onto the road in front of him.

Driving hard towards him on both lanes, the windows rolled down as men masked with red scarves leaned out with machine pistols in hand. Taking a hard turn right, Wolfer drove into the alleys between the tall buildings. Snaking his way through the back alleys, he saw cars block off exits all around him. Cursing inside his helmet, the assault looked frantically for a way out.

A car drove into the alley behind him, sending trashcans flying through the air. The men leaning out of the windows were sending rapid bursts of fire at Wolfer as the assault pushed his head down and hit the throttle. Taking a steep turn right, Wolfer brought the bike to a screeching halt as he cursed out loud. Dead end.

Jumping off the bike Wolfer glanced around the alley. There was a fire escape on the building to his left and he leapt up, catching the low-end of the ladder. Pulling himself up he quickly scaled up to the first level. The car screeched into the alley below him and Wolfer dived through a window on the side of the building, crashing helmet-first into the corridor of the apartment building as the sounds of gunfire exploded behind him.

Scrambling to his feet the assault threw away the helmet. Running down the corridor he took the stairs up, loping his way up story by story. The door to the roof was locked so he pulled his pistol, turning his face away and firing three rounds into the lock. With resounding kick he sent the door swinging open into the bright sunlight.

Running off to the roof Wolfer glanced around. The next building across the alley in front of him was on a lower level, and the man stopped for a moment to consider his next move. The EXALT giving him chase would soon be on him. Wolfer froze for a moment as he noticed the distant flapping of a helicopter. His mind made up, he sprinted the last few meters and leapt.

Swinging his hands wildly, the assault let out a loud yell as he flew through the air. Landing on the roof of the next building, Wolfer crashed down into an inelegant roll, knees jolting with the impact. Scrambling back up, he ran onwards as the sounds of the chopper drawing ever closer intensified. And then the sounds of air being beaten into submission filled his ears.

The chopper came up on his left, the side of the aircraft open with an EXALT operative behind a minigun. The weapon spun up and from below the beating of the chopper the deafening crash of a bullet storm broke into the morning air. Wolfer pushed his head down, covering his face with an arm as concrete dust and debris flew into the air around him, the edges of the building being torn apart as the EXALT tried to bring the weapon on target. Dashing desperately towards the air conditioning tower in front of him, Wolfer dived behind the box of metal.

The clanging of metal filled his ears as the minigun punched holes into the cover above him. Covering his head Wolfer clenched his teeth together. _I can't stay here. I have to run._ Getting ready to bolt, he tensed every muscle in his body.

A massive explosion rang in the air as the minigun fire suddenly stopped. Rolling over and looking towards the chopper, Wolfer saw the husk of the aircraft spin away from the building, crashing away from his sight with a massive tail of flame and smoke trailing behind it. Jumping up, the assault ran to the edge of the building.

On the other side of the street, Orgun was kneeling behind a mailbox. Smoke rose from the rocket launcher on his shoulder as the man let out a wild cheer. Scubaman, DSM and Hypergeek were all taking cover on the edges of the building, laser weapons at the ready. Wolfer glanced around and noticed the ladder of a fire escape to his right. Dashing over he swung to the ladder, sliding his way down. The friction burned away relentlessly at his gloves but he still only stopped twice along the long descent. Jumping off into the alley, Wolfer threw away the smoking gloves, the palms of his hands red and stinging.

"Run on over! We've got you!" Scubaman shouted from across the street, and Wolfer complied. Pushing his head down, he dashed across the street. DSM was firing her laser strike rifle, keeping the EXALTs that had given Wolfer chase away from the edge of the rooftop. As the covert operative reached the squad, everyone withdrew into the alley behind them, Hypergeek leading the run back with scatter laser raised.

Bursting out from the end of the alley the squad laid eyes on the Skyranger, parked in the middle of Detroit on a small patch of grass that served as a children's soccer field. The ramp lowered and the operatives dashed inside, the aircraft taking off with thrusters blasting in full force.

* * *

><p>A thoroughly exhausted Wolfer scrambled out of the Skyranger and into the hangar bay. He had left the intel unceremoniously lying on the floor of the aircraft. Swiping a sore hand across his face, he pushed past the Skyranger mechanics and the member of the intelligence team. There was no hero's welcome for Wolfer as there had been for Kilroy; it was late in the night in Japan and the honors of the first mission against the new enemy had already been taken. Loping up the stairs to the upper level of the hangar bay, Wolfer got ready to leave when he saw his friend.<p>

Instinct was standing next to the railing, looking at Wolfer with an amused look on his face. "Where're you off to in such a hurry? Almost didn't notice me huh? That's what I get for giving a shit about you I guess."

Wolfer stared at the Nigerian man with weary eyes. Striding over, he grabbed the shorter man into a bear hug. Closing his eyes, Wolfer slammed his hand into his friend's back, over and over again. When Wolfer showed no signs of stopping, Instinct spoke up with a slightly amused and worried tone, "Hey man, what's up? Everything okay?"

Wolfer stepped back, looking at the black man in front of him with an affectionate look. Slamming a hand on his shoulder, Wolfer answered, "It's just good to see you, you know? Come on, spar with me. I feel like I have a hundred pounds of shit inside and I need you to kick it out of me."

Slinging his hand over Instinct's shoulder, Wolfer started towards the corridor. "Hey what the hell man, it's the middle of the night for me! You jet-lagged, selfish piece of shit!" The futile objections of Instinct rang in the empty corridors of the base as they made their way towards the martial arts room.


	30. Chapter 29: Feelings

Chapter 29: Feelings

Kamikaze lay on his medbay bed, face down as usual. His back was recovering from the plasma burns, but it would still take quite some time before he would be able to rest like normal. Stretching his neck on the pillow and turning his eyes, he peered at the television mounted on the opposite wall. The soap opera wasn't really his cup of tea and he hadn't been able to keep up with the twists and turns in the shaky plot over the past few days. Not that it really mattered. Relaxing his neck, Kamikaze laid his head down on the pillow and returned his eyes to the bed next to him.

Squint was propped up against the pillows behind her, smiling widely as the couple on the show swore their everlasting love for each other. The small woman had a nasal cannula on to supply her with oxygen and white gauze ran around her head. A drip was connected to her left arm, but the woman seemed to be in good spirits despite her condition. Turning her head towards Kamikaze, Squint spoke in an excited tone, "Isn't it wonderful they're finally getting together? They're so cute!"

Kamikaze smiled at the eagerness with which she devoted herself to the story. Nodding slightly in agreement, Kamikaze continued to stare at her as she turned her attention back to the TV. Quietly thanking the injuries on his back, Kamikaze was more than content to be able to lie like this; if he was on his back, getting away with staring at Squint would've been a lot harder. Closing his eyes the man laughed silently inside. _You're a grown man, not a teenager stealing peeks at your high school crush._

Opening his eyes again, Kamikaze glanced past Squint. The screen from before had been removed once Squint had come to and beyond her Burncycle was lying on his bed, the short Japanese man focused on his novel. Further down the line of beds, Drake and Kilroy were sitting on Drake's bed. The two assaults had almost recovered with under a week left on their rehabilitation. They would often wander out of the medbay but this morning, they had stayed behind. Kamikaze noticed the two women looking at him with amused grins. Glancing at each other, Kilroy whispered something and drew a giggle out of Drake. Getting up, the women rounded Burncycle's bed and made their way over to Squint.

"How are you sweetheart?" Drake inquired, leaning over and giving Squint's hair an affectionate caress. Looking up, the young woman smiled and greeted her two seniors. Kilroy looked up from the scout and stared Kamikaze in the eye, lifting a knowing eyebrow. Kamikaze responded with a small shrug, smiling a quiet smile at the woman.

"It's been fine, really! I'm feeling better every day. And Kamikaze here is nice enough to let me decide what to watch! I mean, not that it probably helps with my recovery but it's nice", Squint was eagerly explaining to Drake, the caramel-skinned woman smiling down at her and nodding understandingly.

Kilroy turned to Squint, putting a hand on her own cheek and speaking in a most concerned of voices, "But is that really such a good idea? I mean, surely a big man like our FUBAR here gets bored watching these ladies' soap operas all the time?"

The slightest of reds rose to Squint's cheeks as she stumbled with her words, "No but, you see, ah, he likes them. Right Kamikaze?" Turning away from the women, Squint glanced over at Kamikaze for support.

"It's fine, Kilroy. I don't really care for TV so Squint can watch whatever makes her happy. Plus, I think I'm actually starting to like this one", the man responded laconically, staring at Kilroy with unimpressed eyes.

Hearing Kamikaze say "whatever makes her happy", the red spread over Squint's face. She turned her eyes back to the TV and pretended it was the ongoing scene that got the reaction out of her. Drake put a hand over her mouth and turned away, shoulders shaking up and down ever so slightly while Kilroy ran a hand through her hair, looking up into the ceiling with a small grin on her face, feigning ignorance to the situation she had incited.

"Well we're taking off. See you guys later!" Kilroy lobbed, turning away and waving them goodbye. Drake followed suit, waving a hand over her shoulder, the other one still on her mouth as the shaking of her shoulders got more and more frantic.

Kamikaze followed their backs out of the room before turning his eyes back to Squint. "Aren't they just the nicest people?" he stated sarcastically and Squint muttered her agreement, her eyes fixed tightly on the TV. The red on her face hadn't receded yet, and the utterly abashed features of Squint drew a smile to Kamikaze's lips. She was so cute when embarrassed.

They continued to spend time just like any other day: Squint watching the TV and Kamikaze lazily following the shows, but the ongoing show on Squint's face was much, much dearer to his heart.

* * *

><p>"All I'm saying is, that's not even what emo means!" Iku voiced his heated complaints while cleaning his ballistic sniper rifle. Kungtotte was sitting on the chair next to him, the lock and magazine of his weapon spread in a neat row on the floor in front of him. His brown hands were glimmering with oil as he focused on scrubbing down the weapon.<p>

"I told you to just ignore him. You know it's not the first time Wolfer has done something inconsiderate", the South African sighed, tired of having the same conversation over and over again.

Iku had been promoted to corporal soon after the alien abductor operation where Foogleman had been killed in action. The Japanese sniper had blamed himself for Foogleman's death, missing crucial shots that could have saved the scout's life had they connected. Could have.

Iku wasn't the most social of XCOM's operatives to begin with and the incident hadn't exactly changed that as the sniper had started to keep to himself more than before. It hadn't been many days after the operation when Wolfer had picked up on his withdrawal and good-naturedly nicknamed the man Emo, oblivious to the blame Iku had been placing on himself.

"And my hair! It just covered my forehead; it wasn't even REMOTELY close to my eyes!" Iku continued on, falling well behind Kungtotte on the progress with his weapon. The Japanese man had shaven his dark hair after being bestowed with the name, the short-cropped hair quite ill-fitting for him.

Kungtotte shook his head quietly, listening to the constant stream of complaints. Iku took things way too seriously some times; not that Kungtotte was a flighty man himself. It was the serious outlook Iku had on things that had drawn Kungtotte to form a friendship with him in the first place. One could only take so much of the hijinks from Merlin and co. before needing a break. Not that he didn't enjoy his roommates' company; quite the opposite, they were near and dear to Kungtotte's heart in a fatherly kind of way. But even a father still needs friends besides his kids.

"Do you still blame yourself for Foogle?" Kungtotte spoke up in-between the complaints. Iku stopped in his tracks and glanced over at his friend. His eyes became distant as he looked away, returning to work on his weapon.

"Every day", came the response from Iku. Scrubbing the lock of his sniper rifle he continued, "I could've saved her. Too many missed shots. Killing those floaters, maybe Kilroy would've still had ammo left..."

His account on the flow of the battle was cut short by Kungtotte. "Maybe. Could've. You know those are useless words on the battlefield Iku. You faced an overwhelming force of enemies and made it out with only one fatality. As much as I miss her, I know Foogle would be happy with that. You need to stop blaming yourself. Just look at Renzol. Everyone knows how she felt about Frag and she's now the number one rocketeer on the outfit."

Iku halted his scrubbing, listening to Kungtotte speak. Turning towards his friend, Iku looked him solemnly in the eye. "Who said she ever stopped blaming herself?" the Japanese man uttered, never breaking eye contact.

Something about Iku's statement made Kungtotte feel uneasy. Turning away from his friend, the South African brought a hand up to massage the nape of his neck. Realizing what he was about to do, he pulled the greasy hand away with a sigh. "Fine. But please stop complaining about the nickname all the time. You're starting to sound like a broken record, Emo."

The hated nickname made Iku's jaw drop in surprise, a smug grin rising to Kungtotte's face. Letting out a heartfelt laugh the family man returned to cleaning his weapon, Iku shaking his head in disbelief at the sudden gibe.


	31. Chapter 30: The Picture

Chapter 30: The Picture

Cell and Wolfer were locked in a sparring match on one of the mats in the martial arts room. From the sidelines, DSM, Jive and Iku looked on as the huge assault and sizeable gunner tested their skills. It was one of the training sessions the South Africans of XCOM liked to take every once in a while. Jive had joined DSM, Cell and Wolfer who had just arrived back from an operation in Mexico. Even though the training sessions had been started by the South Africans, it was no private club: if somebody wanted to join them, they were more than welcome to. It had been DSM who invited Iku over after the operation and with nothing better to do, the sniper had decided it was high time to get some extra close combat training done. Plus, maybe some more socializing would help him lose the nickname.

"I'm going to be so rusty", Iku remarked to DSM next to him. Turning towards the Japanese man, the scout stood eye-to-eye with him.

"Don't you start giving your excuses now. You're here and I'm gonna kick your ass", the woman jeered with a tilt of her head and a wide grin on her face. The usual unenthusiastic demeanor of DSM was gone as she got a chance to lay it on Iku. Giving the woman an unimpressed glance, the sniper looked back towards the ongoing fight.

Wolfer was easily the favorite and Cell really was the only candidate for him to spar with from the South Africans when it came to hand-to-hand. Cell was tall and ripped for a woman, but her chances still seemed nonexistent against the hunk of meat that was Wolfer. Retreating from the assault's onslaught, Cell kept her guard up as she diverted the strikes aimed at her body.

Charging his opponent, Wolfer got up close to grapple the gunner. Hands closing over Cell's wrist and shoulder, the big assault looked to throw her down to the ground. Spreading her legs, Cell stumbled backwards as she struggled to maintain her balance. Throwing her arms wide she managed to break the hold Wolfer had on her, quickly jumping away from the man. "Not bad", the assault uttered, wiping a hand across his mouth and starting towards Cell once again, the woman circling around to not get pushed off the mat.

Closing in with a blocked jab, Wolfer followed up with a kick towards Cell's hip. Quick as a viper, Cell grabbed onto the man's leg and pulled backwards, putting all her strength to twisting and throwing him. Losing his balance, Wolfer cursed loudly as he crashed onto the mat. Rolling away from any follow ups, the big man grinned eagerly at the challenge. Across from him Cell's brow was furrowed deep in concentration as she gave it her all to defeat her opponent.

Taking the offensive, Cell struck towards Wolfer's face. Forcing the man backwards, she focused her assault on the man's upper body and head, drawing his guard ever upwards. Seeing her moment come, the gunner dived in, tackling Wolfer at the waist. Expecting the attack, the assault let out a massive roar as he grabbed Cell just below her breasts and shifted his weight backwards, using the momentum the gunner was already putting into the tackle. In a clean throw, he slung Cell up through the air as both of the fighters came crashing down hard on the mat, Cell taking the brute force of the impact on her side, knocking the wind out of her.

Rolling over to her back, the woman gasped for air with a disgruntled groan. Accepting the hand from Wolfer, she got up to one knee and looked at the grinning man from under her brow. Wolfer let out a heartfelt laugh and slapped the gunner on the shoulder, bellowing his approval, "You're one tough lady I'll give ya that! Almost kicked my ass!"

Taking a sharp breath, Cell managed to mutter _"Next time"_ under her breath. DSM turned to Jive, gesturing towards the pair on the mat and explaining to the newcomer, "You still wonder why we call her Tectonic after that crash?" Jive looked at the scout, her dark-skinned face turning to a smile as she nodded her understanding.

The two fighters joined the rest of the gang on the side, Cell doubling over and reaching for her water bottle. Wolfer was rolling and stretching his shoulders while he turned towards the rest of the operatives. With the rush of the fight gone, a more serious look had appeared into his eyes. "You ever think of going back to SA when this is all over?" the assault voiced his question with uncharacteristic graveness.

DSM snorted in contempt, "That shit hole? Haven't been there since I was six and I've got no reason to go back." Jive muttered an indecisive maybe and Cell remained silent, straightening her back as the wind returned to her.

"Yo, what about you Cell?" Wolfer inquired and turned to the woman, pestering her for an answer. Cell looked at the man with a furrowed brow, clearly out of her comfort zone.

"I'm with DSM here. No reason nor desire to go back", the woman uttered, taking another swig from her water bottle. Wolfer looked down towards the floor, scratching the back of his head in puzzlement. It wasn't the start to the conversation he had been hoping for.

Looking back up at Cell, Wolfer suddenly realized something. "Hey, how come you were so pissed off at Zim then? If you don't give a rat's ass about SA that is", the man challenged Cell, causing the woman to freeze in place.

Glancing at Wolfer with hard and cold eyes, Cell turned away from the group and picked up her towel. "None of your goddamn business, Wolfer. I'm off", the woman stated in a low and harsh tone, striding out of the martial arts room.

"Hey, what the hell?" the assault exclaimed, turning to the others with a confused look on his face. "What is wrong with the people in this outfit?" the big man complained indignantly, his attempts at having a conversation about their home country dead in its tracks. DSM responded with an uninterested shrug and Jive glanced away from the loud man, uncomfortable with the sudden change in atmosphere.

Shaking his head, Wolfer turned to Iku. "Okay, well at least we can still train some more. Come on, Emo. Let's do this."

The sniper looked at Wolfer with disbelief in his eyes. Speaking up, he voiced his concerns to the big man, "Really, me versus you? I think I'd rather try DSM or Jive here." Wolfer just stared at Iku for a moment, mad at himself for not realizing what an obviously unfair match it would've been and mad at Iku for turning down his offer so bluntly. Muttering his disappointed agreement, the big man grabbed his gear and stormed out of the martial arts room, shaking his head the whole way out.

DSM lifted her eyebrows and crossed her arms across her chest. "Well, that escalated quickly", the scout commented while Jive and Iku shuffled their feet uncomfortably in the wakes of the awkward conversations.

* * *

><p>Cell pushed open the door to her room. Glancing around, she silently thanked God no one was there. The last thing she needed was having to deal with Orgun or Scuba. Pushing to her closet, she dug the keys from her pocket and unlocked the door.<p>

Tossing her training gear to the bottom of the closet, she knew she'd soon regret not taking a shower right after training. But with the emotional storm that was once again brewing inside of her, she hadn't wanted to take the risk of somebody chasing after her and catching her in the locker room. Shaking her head, Cell reached for the small box where she kept her personal items.

Flicking the box open, she moved the few pieces of jewelry and other small items around, searching for something. Lifting her wallet she saw what she was looking for in the very back. Picking up the small photograph, Cell closed the box and her closet, walking across the room to her bottom bunk.

She was a hardened soldier already at age twenty-five. Most people were surprised to learn of her age, positive she had to be well in her thirties. That's what joining the French Foreign Legion as a teenager can do to you.

Sitting down on her bed, Cell looked at the picture in her hand. Drawing a stuttering breath she closed her eyes and hung her head down. Covering her face with her other hand, she felt a lump form at the back of her throat. _Why? Why now? Why should I care now?_

Opening her eyes again, they glimmered wetly with tears. Staring at the picture in her hand, Cell fought against the storm that was raging inside of her, biting back the tears.

_Why? After all these years, why now?_


	32. Chapter 31: Family

Chapter 31: Family

Author's note: Sorry Morgan fans, but no covert op for her. Those 6k word chapters take over six hours to write even when I have it planned out, and I had no ideas for her as she is still such an underdeveloped character.

* * *

><p>A large crowd had gathered in the operatives' break room to celebrate their latest victory over EXALT. Morgan had returned from a successful covert operation in France where the intelligence teams of XCOM and the Council had tracked an EXALT cell to an isolated location in the countryside. With the help of Strike One, they had stormed the perimeter and claimed valuable data from the terrorist cell.<p>

Van Doorn was sitting on the counter with a pint of lager in front of him, recounting one of his war stories to the people around him. Awo was leaning against the counter listening intently to the experienced soldier's tale and Daishi was sitting on the other side of the General, smiling her polite smile as she followed the story.

"So there I was, standing face to face with this Afghani kid pointing his AK at me. So I lower my pistol and speak to him in Dari. I ask him why he's fighting. I can see he's just a kid; couldn't have been older than fifteen. He hesitates and the barrel of his rifle starts to hang. So I ask him what he wants: a free country, a loving family, honorable death. And I say to him, I can't give you any of those. So what do I do?" Van Doorn glanced at the people gathered around him, pausing for a while before continuing on.

"I lay my pistol on the ground and slowly walk up to this kid. I can see he's terrified, doesn't want to be there, doesn't know what to do. So I take off my beret and place it on his head. I put a hand on his shoulder and tell him he can be the real peacekeeper here, all he has to do is put down the gun and I'll make sure no one gets hurt. And as far as I know, the kid is still alive and well to this day." Finishing up his story, Van Doorn drew _aaaaawws_ and sighs from the women around him and laughs from the men.

Awo shaked his head in amusement at the man before speaking up, "So what, you saying it was the beret that did it?" Taking a sip from his beer, Van Doorn smiled behind the pint. Laying down his drink he turned towards Awo with a mysterious laughter glimmering in his eyes.

"A man's hats hold many powers, lieutenant. A man must have a hat for every occasion, for you never know when you might need one." Seeing the perplexed look on Awo's face, Van Doorn let out a booming laugh and slammed a hand on the infantryman's back. "Don't mind me, sonny. Just the ramblings of an old man with one too many beers under his belt for the night."

Daishi leant forwards on the counter, smiling at the General. "They really should've made you an officer straight away, Mister Van Doorn. I can just see the aura of leadership and charisma surrounding you", the scout praised, blushing a little as she realized she'd just blurted out something so incredibly cheesy. Next to her DSM buried her face in her hands, sinking on the counter in second-hand embarrassment.

With a hearty laugh, the General turned over to Daishi and put an arm over the scout's shoulders. Leaning in closer, the old warhorse spoke in a soft tone, "I appreciate your words kiddo, but I wouldn't trust an outfit that throws a newcomer straight to the top, no matter the background. I'm more than happy to work my way up, believe you me." Daishi was sitting arrow-straight with her feet and hands together, flushed red all over.

"Oh dear, I-I'm so sorry. I don't know why I…" the tall woman stumbled over her words, drawing a friendly laugh from Van Doorn. Letting go of her silly embarrassment, Daishi joined the old man in his laughter and signaled for Orgun to get her another drink.

At the end of the counter, Morgan was recounting her experience on the field to Kilroy and Drake. The two assaults had finally recovered from their wounds and were eager to learn how their junior had fared out there. Morgan was smiling confidently as she recounted the by-the-numbers operation, Kilroy getting the occasional sneer and gibe from Drake for how horribly wrong her own covert operation had gone.

In the lounge part of the room Medve was sitting on a sofa next to Cell, with Hypergeek and Vherid filling out the armchairs facing the sofa. Everyone had a cigar lit up with glasses of bourbon on hand. Complaints from Hypergeek filled their little circle as the Belgian engineer made known his disappointment in the bastard drink known as bourbon.

"You _certainement_ must have whiskey. The real stuff, made in the Old World. None of this ameritrash we have here." Taking a sip of his bourbon, he wrinkled his nose in disapproval. Cell and Medve exchanged knowing looks with each other, unimpressed by the elitism the engineer was displaying.

A coughing fit from Vherid interrupted Hypergeek's complaints as the Mexican sniper struggled with his cigar. Slamming a hand on his chest the diminutive man gasped for air, the glass of bourbon in his hand shaking unsteadily. Finally calming his breathing down, Vherid managed to speak up, "Goddamn, how do you people smoke this stuff? You can have it back, it's wasted on me." Offering the cigar back to Medve, the lieutenant furrowed his brow disapprovingly.

"You can't just snuff it out now. You lit it up, you smoke it. That's how it goes." Cell nodded approvingly next to her fellow gunner, taking a long drag from her cigar and puffing out shaky smoke circles.

Vherid stared at the two of them disbelievingly before glancing away and opening his mouth, "Yeah right, snigger at Hypergeek and his whiskey. You goddamn nerds." Medve continued to stare at the sniper with a furrowed brow, but Cell broke into a fit of coughs as Vherid's comment caught her off-guard. Letting out a hearty laugh, she shook her head a little. Vherid definitely had sharp eyes and feel for the situation.

In the back of the room the three Germans Stoli, Zim and Wootastic were locked in a darts match against the South Africans Wolfer, Kungtotte and Jive. They were the two most represented nationalities on the outfit and playful competition often arose between them. The dartboard was custom-made by Petete, the Dutch engineer having a knack for painting and putting things together. A sheet with the face of a muton painted on it was stretched across the dartboard with the wiring indicating the scoring holding the sheet in place.

Stoli threw her arms up in the air as she scored another bullseye, drawing unbelieving groans from the South Africans. Zim and Wootastic shared a high-five as the Germans pulled further ahead in the match. The losers would have to serve drinks for the victors for the rest of the night. Turning to taunt Wolfer, Stoli stuck out her hips and gave the man a teasing wink, drawing a curse from the man as he turned away.

After the crude approaches the assault had made on her during the first few days of the conflict, Stoli had made it exceedingly clear what was okay with her and what wasn't. Having learned his lesson, Wolfer was a lot tamer and easier to handle these days, and the female engineer loved teasing the big man. They'd become good friends as she had come to understand Wolfer better: the man rarely had ill intentions even when it seemed like it and a swift kick in the shin would settle him down in no time.

The break room continued to bustle with activity as the off-duty troops got some respite from the alien war: drinking, playing and chatting the night away with the people who had become like a second family to them.


	33. Chapter 32: Wounded

Chapter 32: Wounded

"Poor kid", Van Doorn muttered in a regretful voice as the paramedics wheeled Prowler away from the Skyranger landing pad and up the ramp leading to the upper level. The private had been struck hard by an outsider's plasma carbine on the small crashed UFO operation they were returning from. People from the engineering team rushed into the Skyranger, carefully bringing out the intact alien plasma rifle and grenade the squad had recovered from a muton Prowler had stunned with the newly engineered Arc thrower.

Awo scratched the back of his head, regarding the alien artifacts with a contemplative look in his eyes. "A shame about that big green bastard as well. I hear the containment is mere days from being finished. Getting away too easy by dying", the infantryman muttered, following after Van Doorn as the squad started their ascent up the stairs.

Van Doorn glanced towards Awo with a small smile on his lips. "I'm sure we'll get more chances to stick E.T. in the pokey. Let's just be glad Prowler will be okay", the Doorn uttered, giving Awo the uncomfortable feeling he was being judged.

Hunterhr had been part of the operation and on the scene to stabilize Prowler as he had gone down to the last defender of the UFO. He was XCOM's top medic and Van Doorn had hit it off with the former UN peacekeeper straight away. When Hunterhr had said Prowler would survive, the General hadn't had any reason to doubt the matter.

The squad continued their way towards the arsenal and the locker room while Prowler was hurried down the corridors of the base and into the medbay.

* * *

><p>"What do you think happened?" Squint asked with a concerned look on her face. The Skyranger paramedics had hurried through the medbay with Prowler on a stretcher as they had made their way to the operating room. Kamikaze shook his head in response, leaning back against his pillows now that the scene had settled down.<p>

"I don't know. I hear it was a small crashed UFO. Should've been by-the-numbers", the man replied, shifting his eyes back towards Squint. The look on the woman's face made his heart ache a little. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Hunterhr was on the op with him", Kamikaze tried to console Squint, earning a grateful look from the woman as she forced a weak smile to her lips.

Squint closed her eyes and rested her head against the pillows behind her. "On your first operation… what a shame. This was bad enough for me, I can't imagine how he's going to feel if he wakes up", the small woman muttered. Opening her eyes she looked Kamikaze in the eye, "When he wakes up", she corrected herself, looking for confirmation from the man in the bed next to her.

"When he wakes up", Kamikaze agreed solemnly, this time drawing a genuine smile from the woman. Somewhat concerned over her words, Kamikaze followed up, "Are you afraid of recovering and getting back out there?"

The small woman let out a deep sigh as she brought her hands up to her temples, giving herself a small rub. "I don't know. It seems so far away still that I don't even want to think about it. But we're getting better, day by day. Inevitably. I just want to stop thinking." Squint's voice trailed off as she pulled her knees up to her chest and gave herself a tight hug.

Kamikaze looked at the woman with sad eyes. He wanted to say something to make it all better, but he didn't have the words. Did such words even exist to begin with? Or was it something she had to come to terms with herself? With a heavy heart, Kamikaze looked on as the woman next to him quietly consoled herself.

Turning her head a little, Squint peeked at Kamikaze. With a small voice, she whispered, "You must think I'm silly. You almost died but it didn't stop you from getting back out there and risking your life for me. You must think I'm a silly, stupid little girl."

Kamikaze's heart jumped at the words. Was she that deeply wounded inside? Or was she trying to take distance from him, the connection and feelings between them now undeniable to Kamikaze as they must have been to her? He couldn't let that happen. Not anymore. A heavy lump materialized at the back of his throat as he opened his mouth, scrambling for the words.

"No. I don't think that at all. It's scary. It was scary for me too." The gunner stopped for a moment, looking away from Squint as he looked for the words inside. "It wasn't easy to get out there and tend to you. I almost didn't do it. But I just had to. I couldn't leave you dying out there." Regaining his composure, Kamikaze looked Squint in the eye. "And I'm glad I didn't. I'm glad you're alive, Squint."

Squint answered his stare with a lost expression. Her arms were crossed over her knees as she was resting her head against them. She was smiling a forlorn smile, tears glimmering in her eyes. Pushing the blanket off of himself, Kamikaze got up with a pained grunt. His back screamed at him as the newly formed skin and scar tissue stretched with the movement, but the man continued on regardless. In three shaky strides, he made his way over to Squint's bed. The small woman followed him with her eyes, the tears now rolling freely down her cheeks.

Sitting down next to her, Kamikaze stretched out an arm. Squint turned and shuffled over, resting her head against his shoulder. Kamikaze closed his arm around her small frame and gave her arm a soft caress. "It'll be all right, Squint. I'm here for you", he said in a hushed tone, gently consoling the small scout as the tears ran down her cheeks. The wounds on the outside would heal with time. The wounds on the inside; who can tell?


	34. Chapter 33: R&R

Chapter 33: R&R

Drake was smiling widely as she dug about her closet. The agonizing wait of rehabilitation and return to rotation had finally ended and she'd been given R&R out of the base, to boot. Finding the top she had been looking for she pulled the military tank-top off of her with glee and donned the low-cut red top. Turning to examine her figure in the mirror on the inside of her closet's door, her good spirits were dampened a bit.

She was wearing tight jeans which highlighted her fit body in just the right places. The red top was one of her favorites, but her fears had been proven right after all. Furrowing her brow and pursing her lips in disappointment, Drake observed her chest from different angles, hoping in vain the issue could be resolved.

The low-cut top revealed quite a bit of cleavage. Her breasts weren't huge but they were ample and firm, and that was what she had always loved about the red top; it brought out her goods just enough to not make it slutty nor remain overly modest. But the light ripples that ran across her caramel chest didn't exactly match the image she'd had in mind. With a sigh Drake rubbed a hand across the scarred tissue, suddenly overcome by a wave of sadness.

"God-fucking-dammit", the assault muttered, pulling the top off and tossing it unceremoniously into her closet. Foogleman's last operation had left deep scars in her, both physical and emotional. Drake put a hand over her eyes and shook her head as she tried to banish the dark thoughts from her mind. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her emotions and began scouring her closet for another top.

Pulling out a white halter top, Drake regarded the garment with approval. It was open at the shoulders, so she would need a strapless bra to go with it. Finding what she was looking for she quickly changed into her new clothes, turning to regard her reflection once again.

_Much better_, she thought approvingly as she looked at the woman staring back at her in the mirror. The top tied in behind her neck, covering her chest completely from the front. The fabric tightened to her body below her breasts, the rest of it flowing freely down to her belly. Taking a small test sway, Drake moved her body to imaginary club music. The hem of the garment swung around, exposing her belly button if she put enough force behind the movement. Grinning excitedly, she turned to regard her profile from the side. Her mood was already picking up.

Her shoulder hadn't been spared from enemy fire either, the faint trace of a plasma burn engraved onto her skin. _What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, huh, _she mused to herself. The garment left only the very top of her back open, concealing her strapless bra perfectly. Satisfied with the outfit Drake grabbed her black purse from the closet, already packed with the necessities for the coming night.

Heading out into the corridor, she made her way over to Scubaman's and Orgun's room. Well, it wasn't technically Scubaman's room anymore with the infantryman's promotion to lieutenant. Even though the Latino slept in his officer's quarters as decided by the base's rules, he still practically lived in his old room. No one in the room seemed to be even remotely uncomfortable with the officer still staying with them: this was Scubaman we are talking about after all. If not for the insignia on his shoulder, it would've been impossible to know the light-hearted jokester was an officer with a responsible position in the outfit.

The door to the room was open and Drake stepped into the doorframe. Scubaman was leaning against the end of Orgun's bunk. The Latino was wearing blue jeans and a Hard Rock Café Buenos Aires T-shirt with an unbuttoned casual shirt blouse on top. His hair was cropped short, bringing out his handsome, chiseled features. Orgun was staring up at the man with an inconsolable look and as Drake entered the doorframe he cried out, gesturing towards the assault.

"See! How is it fair these besties get to go out together but they separate us! It's a travesty I say!" From the middle of the room Kilroy let out a mocking laugh. She was wearing a tight white T-shirt of her favorite band and denim shorts. Over her shirt she had a baggy denim jacket and her casual rocker-style was topped off by her favorite aviator sunglasses perched in her brown hair.

Walking over to Drake she took her friend in an embrace, turning over to Orgun and sticking her tongue out at the man. Morgan and Cell looked on from their bunks in amusement and Merlin, who had been lounging near Cell's bunk, stepped towards the two assaults. Taking Kilroy and Drake into an affectionate embrace, she whispered with some regret in her voice, "Have enough fun out there for me too, okay?"

Drake patted the woman on the back, looking her in the eye with sympathy and promising they would. Merlin kissed them goodbye and retreated back into the room. Looking towards the rest of the people present, Drake and Kilroy waved them goodbye. Turning to leave, the goodbyes ringing from the room carried them out into the corridor. Turning back towards the room, Kilroy raised her voice in exasperation, "Come on _El Dickhead,_ time to leave your boyfriend behind and get going!"

Scubaman laughed as he tried to detach himself from Orgun who was giving quite the impressive performance of eternal love. The man was on his knees and squeezing tears from his eyes, clutching at the hem of the Latino's shirt. "I said, get off me you big baby! It's just for one night!" Scuba exclaimed cheerfully, knocking Orgun gently over the head with his elbow. The Irishman finally let go, staring at the man with a pout. Shouting his goodbye to the people in the room, Scubaman joined the assaults in the corridor as they started their way towards the main entrance of the base.

"So, finally out of the base huh! What do you reckon girls, are we gonna have fun or not?" Scubaman uttered eagerly, his gait light and full of excitement. Drake and Kilroy had their arms over each other's shoulder and waist as they smiled at Scubaman, just as excited to finally have some time out of the conflict as the merry infantryman.

"We are", Kilroy answered with a straight face, glancing over at Drake. The Indian woman vocalized her agreement, nodding away, "Definitely. Would be criminal to not have, don't you agree Sheriff?" Kilroy voiced her agreement, keeping the charade going.

"Better watch out, lieutenant. Fun Sheriff Kilroy will throw you in the fun cell if you don't comply. Or wait, is it the anti-fun cell?" A perplexed look appeared on Drake's face as she kept the game going, drawing laughs from Scuba and Kilroy. In high spirits, the group continued to make their way towards the exit and the helicopter that would take them to their R&R in Nagoya, Japan.

* * *

><p>The helicopter had brought them over to one of the Council's bases near Nagoya. Stepping out onto the asphalt of the military establishment, the operatives looked around. The morning had turned to noon and the June sun bore down on them relentlessly. The Japanese soldiers around the base seemed to pay no attention to them: it was almost like the operatives didn't even exist.<p>

"Am I out on another covert op again or is this actually happening?" Kilroy wondered out loud. Glancing around the open area surrounded by barracks and hangars, Drake spotted the car they had been told about.

"Over there!" she shouted, pointing towards a low red convertible on the side of one of the buildings. The three operatives made their way over, sunglasses on and the women's hair tussled about by the wind. A serious-looking Japanese man was standing next to the driver's side of the car. As the operatives approached the vehicle, the man gave a curt bow and opened the back door for Kilroy and Drake.

The women exchanged a merry glance with each other and thanked the man, climbing to the seats in the back. Scubaman rounded the car and jumped over the door to ride shotgun. The chauffeur got on without any questions, starting up the engine. "To Nagoya!" Kilroy exclaimed from the back seat, throwing her arm out and pointing towards whatever vague direction she thought Nagoya might be at. The chauffeur gave her an understanding nod and took off, drawing wild cheers from the girls in the back seat and an excited laugh from Scuba.

Getting onto the road, the operatives cherished the feel of the wind on their skin. Drake's hair had gotten quite long, reaching almost to her shoulders, and she enjoyed the feeling of the wind pushing her hair back. As soon as they approached the first store on the road side, Scubaman signaled for their driver to pull over. Jumping out of the car he took off, shouting over his shoulder he'd be back in a couple minutes.

The man soon returned with two plastic bags in tow. Dumping one of them between the girls, Scuba got back in his seat with a satisfied grin on his face. The chauffeur started up the engine and they were off on the road once again, Kilroy and Drake digging into the bag excitedly.

With an approving grin, Drake pulled out a cider while Kilroy cracked open a beer can. Scuba was fiddling with something in the front seat, digging around in his bag. "Music, you dumbass!" Kilroy shouted with glee and Scuba complied. Flicking through the Japanese pop stations, he found one playing classic western rock. With _Highway to Hell_ blasting out of the stereo, Drake and Kilroy let out a loud cheer as they raised their drinks in a toast.

"Alright, try this out girls!" Scuba yelled out merrily, turning around and offering the two women plastic mugs filled with colorful drinks. Kilroy lifted a doubtful eyebrow, picking up the offered mug.

"What is it?" the woman shouted over the blasting of the music and the humming of the air and engine.

Scuba smiled mysteriously, lifting his sunglasses and giving her a wink. "Señor Scubaman's love elixir, _mi amor_", the man spoke in a husked voice, just loud enough to carry over to Kilroy. The assault lowered her head, giving the man an unimpressed look over the rim of her sunglasses.

"Bottoms up!" Drake exclaimed, raising her plastic mug in a small toast before downing the drink eagerly. Kilroy followed suit, raising her eyebrows approvingly.

"Your love juice ain't bad, I'll give you that señor Ding Donger", Kilroy yelled at Scuba, earning a hearty laugh from the man. The Latino reached into his plastic bag again, tossing something into the back seat. Letting out a surprised cuss, Kilroy caught the item as it bumped into her, saving it from tumbling over the seats and into the road behind them.

She regarded the pack of cigarettes in her hand with an incredulous look. "What the hell Scuba? Why do you think this is a good idea?" she shouted at the infantryman. Drake leaned over to take a look at what she was holding, wrinkling her nose in disapproval.

Scuba threw his head back and let out another laugh. Turning back towards the girls he exclaimed merrily, "Tonight is the night of many bad decisions, Kilroy! Live the life to tell the tale afterwards! We are going all out tonight!"

Kilroy responded with a nonchalant shrug, opening the pack and sticking a smoke between her lips. Offering the pack up for Drake, the oriental woman regarded her with a doubtful look. Regardless, she reached over and plucked one from the pack. "You ever smoked?" Kilroy asked her friend as Scuba tossed a lighter onto the back seat.

"Occasionally when out and about", Drake responded, accepting the light from Kilroy as she shielded the flame with her hand. Taking a drag from the cigarette, Drake let out a small cough as the bitter smoke hit her lungs. It had been a long time since her last one and she wasn't entirely certain this was a good idea.

Kilroy lit herself up and took a slow, long drag. Falling back against her seat, the woman let out a satisfied sigh as she let the smoke out through her nose. "I used to be a chain-smoker back when I was a teenager. Merlin's gonna be so pissed at Scuba", the woman uttered, earning an amused glance from Drake.

As they continued their way towards Nagoya, the drinks in their hands got drained and replaced with new ones. Music blasted from the stereo and as _Paradise City_ came on, Scuba led the girls into a passionate if ear-piercing rendition of the classic. As the operatives slowly yet steadily gained steam from the intoxicating drinks and feeling of freedom, the bitter smoke of the cigarettes started to burn less and less and feel better and better. Nagoya was fast approaching in the afternoon sunlight, and the thought of a good restaurant followed by a heated night club was enough to drive the last of the weariness and stress of the alien war out of their minds and bodies.

* * *

><p>The music in the club pulsed vibrantly as the mass of bodies on the dance floor moved to the beat, the smoky air highlighted by a brilliant array of colors. Drake and Kilroy were in the midst of it all, bodies swaying back and forth as they danced the night away.<p>

Kilroy had left her jacked in the cloakroom and her hair was disheveled, face glimmering with sweat. Spinning around, Drake ground herself against the brunette, going down low with her arms in the air, swaying back and forth like an Indian goddess. Kilroy responded, following her movements and giving her ass a firm squeeze, drawing a wild laugh from her friend. Spinning back around to face her, Drake grinned and bit at the air, earning another slap on her ass.

They had long since lost count of the number of drinks they'd downed, and it was showing. Continuing to strut their stuff on the dance floor, the two assaults earned looks from the men and women around them, some of them trying to join in. Unwelcome approaches and hands were met with angry looks and twisted wrists from Kilroy, her no-nonsense attitude driving them away.

Shouting fruitlessly over the blasting music, Drake swung her head back towards the counter. Kilroy nodded her agreement and the two women made their way through the heaving mass, breaking out from the dance floor and scaling the few steps up to the surrounding club area. Small tables littered the dark room and the women made their way over to one of the many counters on the side.

Jamming themselves in-between the people on the counter, Kilroy signaled at the bartender. The man was going through the customers on the counter in order and ignored the brunette assault. Kilroy turned towards Drake, rolling her eyes in exasperation. To further her point, she grabbed onto her breasts and lifted them up for Drake's inspection, her expression yelling _LOOK AT THESE_, drawing a laugh from her friend. Shaking her head Kilroy turned back towards the counter, waiting for her turn.

A tap on her shoulder got her attention as Drake pointed towards the end of the counter. Scubaman was locked in a passionate kiss with one of the locals, a true vision of a Japanese woman wearing a revealing dress. The man's hands were roaming all over her back and ass, the Latino leaning in to whisper soft promises of passion in her ear every once in a while.

Kilroy regarded the pair for a while before turning back to Drake. She lifted her eyebrows at her friend and Drake leaned in close, shouting gleefully over the music, "Looks like _El Zorro_ is about to score!" Kilroy burst into laughter, grabbing her friend under her arm and turning back to look at Scuba. The man had noticed the laughing operatives staring at him and was looking back with a smirk on his lips. Giving them a wink, the man returned his attention to the woman in front of him.

The bartender finally arrived in front of the girls and Kilroy yelled their order of two mojitos at the man. The ripped Japanese man with half of his head clean-shaven nodded his understanding, turning around to make the ladies their drinks. Drake started to dig around in her purse but Kilroy stopped her with a hand placed on her wrist. Silently mouthing "_I'll pay"_ at her friend, Kilroy pulled out a stack of yens from her own purse.

As the man returned with their drinks, she offered an excessive tip to the man. Signaling at the bartender's eyes and then lifting her breasts again, Kilroy drew a laugh from the man as he understood her point. Nodding and mouthing a thank you at the girls, he turned towards the next customer. Kilroy grabbed their drinks as they headed back out onto the dance floor, this time sticking to the edge of the crowd with drinks on hand.

The night stretched on as the two assaults took everything out of the occasion. Eventually the dance floor started to thin out as the last call approached and the girls joined the trickle of people headed for the cloakroom. Grabbing Kilroy's jacket, they stepped out into the dark night.

The city's lights illuminated the streets as the weary women teetered down the walkway. Exceptionally drunk and already well on their way down, their hair were a mess and the gentle June air was a welcome refreshment on their sweaty bodies. Coming to a halt, Kilroy dug a small flask out of her purse, earning a pained groan from Drake.

"Come on, girlfriend", the brunette muttered, grabbing Drake by her hand and pulling her towards a car parked on the side of the road. Clambering up onto the hood, Kilroy slid over and rested against the windshield. Drake let out a drunken giggle, following her friend up onto the car. Popping the flask open, Kilroy took a swig of vodka before passing it over to Drake.

Staring up into the sky, the tall buildings illuminated by neon-colored signs and windows rose all around them. The small strip of sky above had no stars in it; nature's own light drowned out by the life-blood of the city. Digging a cigarette pack from her purse, Kilroy received a disgusted groan from Drake.

"We still have those?" the woman complained as Kilroy lit up. Offering the pack to Drake, the oriental woman shook her head in refusal. "I think I'm gonna puke if I have any more." Opening her purse, Drake pulled out a water bottle and took a long, refreshing swig, her dehydrated throat and body welcoming the liquid with glee.

Kilroy stared into the sky, lazily following the trail of smoke rising from her cigarette. Her head was pounding and her throat was dry, but she felt light and free. It was contentment found in a small moment amidst chaos; it was a moment worth living for. Taking another drag, she cherished the feeling of the smoke burning her lungs. The cigarettes had once again started to taste like ass a long time ago, but the hot smoke in her lungs made her feel alive; it assured her it was all worth it.

Drake laid her head against Kilroy's shoulder, closing her eyes. "I miss Foogs, 'Roy", she whispered, her mind hazy from the lack of sleep and alcohol. Kilroy stretched out an arm and pulled Drake closer, taking another drag from her smoke before responding.

"Yeah, every day. It's a shame she couldn't be out here with us. I bet she was an amazing dancer", the brunette responded solemnly, drawing a giggle out of Drake.

"She was amazing at everything. Woulda loved to see her shake dat ass!" she exclaimed cheerfully, the laugh turning into a whimper as she brought her hands up to her head. "Ow, goddamn! My hair hurts 'Roy, let's get back to the hotel", she complained, struggling back to a sitting position. Glancing around she noted no one was paying any attention to the two women lying on the hood of the car. That's Japan for you.

Staggering and swaying their way across the streets, the two women made their way over to the small hotel where they had booked a room for the night. It was a small one-room suite with a single bed, couch and a table. Without any ceremonies Drake crashed onto the couch while Kilroy took the bed, both of them passed out and asleep in no time at all.

* * *

><p>Drake opened her eyes gingerly, the dull daylight from the window swarming her senses. Her arm was numb from sleeping on top of it, and her mouth was dry as the Sahara desert. Making the fatal mistake of rolling over, she groaned in pain as a thousand sectoids mindfrayed her at once, her brain pummeling at the insides of her skull.<p>

"Killllrooooy!" she moaned in a pained tone, laying limply on the couch. The back rest of the sofa was towards the bed and she couldn't see her friend. Letting out another whining call, she heard Kilroy stir in the bed beyond. An incoherent mumble answered as Kilroy woke up from her slumber and into the shared reality of the worst hangover they'd had in a long time.

Drake called for her friend again, this time drawing an angry _"what?"_ from Kilroy. "Get me water Kilroy", Drake whined, bursting into a hysterical giggle as Kilroy cursed at her from out of sight. The giggle sent jolts of pain through her head but she couldn't stop: she was sleep deprived, gloriously hung over and probably still a little bit drunk. Struggling to a sitting position Drake glanced over at Kilroy and burst into painful yet oh-so satisfying laughter at the sight.

Kilroy was sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging over the edge. Her denim jacket was halfway off her shoulders and her T-shirt was wrinkled and bunched up at the hem, revealing her belly button. Her eyes were miserable as the eyeliner had smeared itself all over her face and the woman's hair was a catastrophic sight: disheveled and pointing in every direction imaginable.

Kilroy stared daggers at Drake as the Indian woman laughed with tears in her eyes. Getting up with a grimace, Kilroy made her way over to the little kitchenette in the corner of the room. Drake was howling with laughter, letting out pained _ows_ in-between the bursts as the hangover hammered at her senses. Filling a glass with water Kilroy turned towards her friend, taking a long sip of the cold water without taking her eyes off Drake. Finished, she filled the glass again, rinse and repeat.

"Oh come on 'Roy! Don't be like that!" Drake complained, still laughing a little while reaching pitifully towards the brunette. Slumping back onto the couch, she gave up on the hopes of receiving a refreshing favor from her friend, too tired and lazy to get up herself.

Kilroy sat down behind the table between the couch and the kitchenette. Digging around in her purse that was lying on the table, she produced a pack of cigarettes. Drake vocalized her disgust and let out a low gag as Kilroy lit up the cigarette. "How can you do that? Oh god I'm never gonna smoke again. My mouth tastes like ass, Kilroy. Like ASS!" Drake complained, staring at her friend in horror.

Kilroy dug her aviator sunglasses from the purse and donned them on, letting out a puff of smoke towards Drake. The bizarre sight of her friend looking like a 70's glam rocker drew another laughing fit from Drake, the pain and fun of it all mingling together into the best time she'd had in a long time. Kilroy regarded the woman with a quiet stare before finally speaking up.

"You look like shit, Drake." The comment drew another massive howl of laughter from Drake and this time Kilroy joined her friend, sinking against the table as her body convulsed with the fits of laughter, fist hammering against the surface of the table. Exclamations of pain and laughter filled the hotel room as the two friends suffered through their collective hangover together, with only water and cigarettes to feed their starving, worn down and tired bodies.

* * *

><p>Scubaman turned over in the bed, opening his eyes. The sleeping face of an attractive Japanese woman in her forties greeted the waking man, drawing a wide smile to his lips. Giving the woman's cheek a soft caress, Scubaman enjoyed the moment a while longer before getting up.<p>

Rising to a sitting position, he pushed the blanket away from his body. The Argentinian was naked as the day he had been born to this world as he ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. Rolling his head and shoulders around, Scuba enjoyed the feeling of his body waking up. He was only slightly hung over: when _El Zorro_ was on the prowl, the ability to perform the act of love came first, the joys of drinking second.

Getting up from the bed, Scuba gave his backside a scratch as he eyed the room. Clothes were thrown all over the small bedroom and he looked for his boxers in the mess. Last night flashing into his mind, he grinned at the memory of the woman throwing his underwear out the door and over the edge of the balcony. Making his way over to his jeans, Scubaman pulled on the pants over his naked body. _We're going behind enemy lines, boys,_ he thought gleefully to himself and let out a low chuckle, careful not to wake up the woman sleeping in the bed.

Grabbing an opened can of beer sitting on a chair close by, the Latino headed towards the balcony door. Getting out into the open air, he regarded the cloudy Nagoya morning with serenity. Taking a sip of the lukewarm beer, he set the can down on the edge of the balcony and dug a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his jeans. Pulling out the last smoke, he lit up and leaned against the edge of the balcony, lazily following the life of the city as people made their way to work, school and various other places in their daily lives.

Finishing his smoke, Scuba dropped the stub into the beer can and turned away from the busy yet still peaceful streets. Getting back inside he closed the balcony door behind him, turning to look for the rest of his clothes. Finding his favorite T-shirt, he pulled the Hard Rock Café shirt over his head with a smile. It was the last item from Argentina he still possessed, and it reminded him of times long gone. Some of them good, some of them bad, but all of them special to him and worth treasuring.

Deciding to forgo the nowhere-to-be-seen socks, Scuba grabbed his blouse shirt and slung it over his shoulder. Rounding the bed, he leaned over and kissed the woman behind her ear. _"Sayonara, mi amor"_, he whispered into her ear, causing her to stir a little on the bed, pulling the blankets tighter around herself. With a smile, Scubaman got up and quietly exited the room.

Walking down the narrow hallway he reached the door and pulled on his sneakers. Looking up, he saw a little girl stare at him from behind the corner at the end of the corridor. Grinning friendly at the girl Scuba sent her a small flying kiss, causing her to disappear behind the corner. With a content smile on his lips, the man pushed out of the door and into the stairwell.

Making his way down in good spirits, he greeted an old man climbing up the stairs. Whistling away, Scubaman walked out into the temperate morning, taking a moment to get his bearings. Figuring out where he was, he headed off into the city. He still had some business to take care of before returning to base.

* * *

><p>"You look ridiculous wearing those sunglasses in this weather", Drake commented as the two women made their way down the somewhat crowded streets. Kilroy dismissed her complaints with a wave of her hand, lowering the sunglasses and peeking at Drake over the rim.<p>

"This better?" the woman asked, drawing a giggle out of Drake as she saw her devastated eyes. Pushing the glasses back up, Kilroy regarded the people around them. The two of them were tall for women, especially in Japanese terms, both standing at around 170 cm tall. But it wasn't the most of it. They were disheveled, clearly hung over and reeked of old booze and cigarettes and apparently quite the sight for the Japanese as people were staring at them in open curiosity.

"You reckon they think we're doing the walk of shame?" Drake asked with a smile on her lips, drawing a groan from Kilroy.

"I will let you know I have not done the walk of shame in forever, Drake! I will not have these people think otherwise of me! There was no sex involved, ergo there is no walk of shame. Make them understand, Drake! Speak to them!" Kilroy proclaimed wildly, drawing a laugh from Drake as she signaled for her to keep it down.

But Kilroy just gained steam, turning to the crowd around them and spreading her arms, "There was no sex, people of Nagoya! Rest assured, this is not the walk-u of the shame-u. _No sekkusu, arigato domo santos!" _The shameless display from Kilroy caused Drake to bury her face in her hands, wanting to disappear from the sights of the people around them. The Japanese were giving the brunette puzzled looks as she jabbered her nonsense out into the morning streets.

"Come on 'Roy, please. No more. Please stop", Drake pleaded, earning a throaty laugh from Kilroy. The woman was beyond giving a fuck in her hung over state but she complied nonetheless, instead digging the pack of cigarettes from her purse. With a moan she realized she was out, crumpling the pack and tossing it over her shoulder unceremoniously.

Glancing around the street, it was hard to believe the alien conflict was in fact real. Life went on like normal in most places, and the people would never know how close they all were to the brink of destruction, or who the people fighting for them were. Turning to her friend, Kilroy spoke up, "Aaaaaaaand… terror attack, go!" Pointing her finger towards the city, she waited for the bombing to start.

Drake regarded her with an unimpressed look, pushing her finger down. Gearing up for another one, Kilroy jabbed out her finger once again, "Aaaaaand…EXALT coming to get me, go!" This time responding with a small laugh, Drake shook her head and turned to regard the stores on the sides. They were positively starving and as Drake finally spied a promising candidate on the side, she yelled out in excitement.

"Look Kilroy! Teppanyaki!" Drake was pointing at a small doorway on the side of the street with flaps of cloth serving as the door. Kilroy gave her friend a puzzled look.

"Tep-a-what-now?" she asked, drawing an exasperated sigh from Drake who grabbed her by the wrist. Dragging Kilroy with her, Drake entered the small restaurant.

The room was simple with traditional Japanese tapestries on the walls. A long counter ran in the middle of the room and beyond it, the kitchen was in open sight. The iron griddle used to prepare the food was steaming hot as the middle-aged cook was working behind the counter. Only a couple of people were sitting on the counter and Drake dragged Kilroy with her, seating them in the middle.

Taking a look at the menu on the counter, Drake ran Kilroy through what teppanyaki was. The brunette's interest flared up as the delicious smells of grilled meat rose from beyond the counter and she focused her full attention on the choices as Drake explained to her what everything was. Settling on a dish of fried beef with vegetables and egg, Drake signaled to the cook they were ready to order.

The wrinkled man leaned over towards the disheveled women, smiling politely as Drake told him their order. The Indian woman didn't speak Japanese, but she knew some of the terms and was familiar with the cuisine in the far-east, managing to place their order effortlessly. Ordering a cola for herself Drake turned to Kilroy to inquire what she wanted to drink.

"Beer", Kilroy stated in a loud tone. Leaning towards the cook, she repeated the order as slowly as she could. "I want beer. Beer-u, _arigato_." The cook smiled politely and let out an understanding _aah_, turning away to fetch their drinks. Drake was staring at Kilroy in disbelief and the brunette shrugged dismissively. "I know my Japanese as well, thank you very much", she stated snobbishly, intentionally misinterpreting Drake's disbelief.

The man brought their drinks and served the other customers their dishes, getting started on Drake's and Kilroy's orders. The steam and odors rising from the cooker were intoxicating to the starving women and the wait seemed almost endless as they stared at the food as it was prepared under their very eyes. Leaning towards Kilroy Drake whispered, "I can't wait. Hold me back if I dive in over the counter right now."

But eventually their wait paid off, and the cook placed their dishes in front of them. Kilroy stared at the chopsticks for a moment before looking up at the cook. The assault made an over-the-top gesture of spooning something up and the cook let out another understanding sound and nodded, fetching the woman a fork. Drake giggled at the interaction, deftly eating her food with the chopsticks.

As Kilroy dug into her food, Drake let out another laugh. "You're gonna eat with those glasses on?" she asked disbelievingly as Kilroy seemed to disregard every courtesy rule in the book. Turning to her friend, Kilroy smacked loudly as she ground down the food in her mouth. Giving up, she spoke with her mouth full.

"I don't wanna scare him off with these", she gestured towards her concealed eyes and Drake let out another laugh, drawing a curious look from the cook. Shaking her head, she muttered _"never change"_ under her breath as they focused on the food.

Finishing up their meals, the women paid up and as Kilroy was about to leave a tip, Drake snagged the money from her. Lecturing the woman on traditional Japanese customs, she shoved the money in her own pocket to Kilroy's dismay. Getting out of the restaurant, the women shouted goodbye and once outside, Drake handed the stack of yens back to Kilroy.

Making their way down the street, well fed and hangover finally subsiding a little bit, the two women were content. The day had turned to noon and they would soon have to head back to the Council's base in order to reach XCOM HQ before midnight. But they still had some time left to roam the city.

Passing by a man shouting heatedly at a crowd gathering around him, the women regarded him curiously. "What do you think he's saying?" Drake asked her friend, drawing a shrug from Kilroy. A Japanese man next to them leaned over, speaking understandable English albeit with a heavy Japanese accent.

"He is praising the Visitor. To give yourself to the cause and ascend beyond the Sins of Mankind." Kilroy stared at him in disbelief before shifting her gaze back to the preacher. Gritting her teeth she clenched her hands into fists.

"Fuckin' EXALT assholes", she growled through her teeth and started towards the edge of the crowd. Drake's hand on her arm stopped her and Kilroy spun around to confront her friend.

The good spirits and merriment had disappeared from Drake's face. She was looking at Kilroy with serious eyes and pulled her friend away from the man who had spoken to them. Leaning close she whispered into Kilroy's ear, "What do you think you are doing? Even if he is one of their people, you really think beating him up in front of this crowd is a good idea? What the hell, Kilroy. And even then, chances are he's just a civilian. A nutjob, yes, but just a harmless civilian. Pull yourself together, tech sergeant."

Kilroy clenched her teeth together and glanced back at the man. Letting out a sharp breath she muttered her agreement and let Drake lead her away from the scene and down the street, away from the man preaching the End of the World.

* * *

><p>Kilroy and Drake lounged on the hood of the convertible, stretching out their legs and enjoying the late afternoon sun peeking through the veil of clouds. It was almost time but Scuba was nowhere to be seen. Turning to complain to Drake once again, Kilroy saw a minivan turn into the military base from the driveway and as it came to a halt close to them, the familiar figure of Scubaman clambered out from the front passenger's seat. Throwing an arm up in greeting the man went to slide open the back door and pulled out something massive.<p>

Kilroy and Drake let out a heartfelt laugh as the infantryman made his way over to them carrying a massive bouquet of flowers. This was no normal bouquet; they had custom-ordered it from one of the flower stores in Nagoya. Dozens after dozens of expensive and colorful flowers adorned the man-sized construction, with a huge card hanging from a blue strap in the front.

As the smiling Scubaman approached them, Drake jumped down from the hood of the car and walked over, turning the card and letting out a sigh as she laid eyes on it. The faces of Frag, Foogleman, Toothcake, Atlanton, Ballystix and Hawkeye adorned the card with the words _In memoriam_ on the top. Kilroy joined Drake and Scubaman and shook her head with a smile as the tears stung at her eyes.

"She'd be super mad we used the money for flowers", Kilroy said, drawing grins from Scuba and Drake. In the end, no one had managed to beat Foogleman in squash before she fell in battle. The operatives had decided the money would go into honoring the fallen; as it happened, the sum had been considerable and a simple bouquet of flowers hadn't quite seemed to cover it. However, Scubaman had made it work, spending every last penny.

Drake smiled a little and turned to Kilroy. "She's not the boss of me anymore. I can do what I want", she said in a small, wistful voice. Kilroy wrapped an arm around her sister as their company turned towards the helicopter, ready to head back to base, all rested and recuperated.


	35. Chapter 34: POW

Chapter 34: POW

Hypergeek climbed up the small ridge to the top of the hill. Sun was setting over the now-quiet marshland, painting the scenery in hues of crimson and orange. Giving the arc thrower hanging from his belt a small tap, the engineer smiled inside as he approached the small group of operatives on top of the hill.

"Damn, that is one ugly son of a bitch", Awo muttered to Van Doorn and Daishi as the soldiers stood around a pair of floaters. The aliens were still alive: a massive dose of high-voltage electricity from close range had short-circuited their mechanical systems and stunned their central nervous systems, leaving the aliens in a comatose state. The aliens should remain incapacitated until revived with special treatment back at HQ, but better safe than sorry. Hypergeek tossed the pair of custom-engineered restraints onto the ground and knelt next to the captives.

Leaning in close, the Belgian observed the face of one of the horrific creatures. Their eyes were covered by some sort of optical lens that usually glowed with yellow light. The glow had died from the spectacles on this one, and the glassed eyes below revealed tiny pupils retreated into the middle of the cornea, twitching unnervingly as if the creature was dreaming.

Looking up at the people around him, Hypergeek took leadership of the situation. Awo may have been the commanding officer on the field but the same way the outfit's medics had the highest authority in any medical emergencies, Hypergeek's authority overrode Awo's when it came to dealing with alien captives. "Van Doorn, you're with me. Awo and Daishi, you take the other one. If you have any questions about the restraints, follow my lead first and ask questions afterwards if it's still unclear. _Comprendre?_"

Receiving nods from the operatives, Hypergeek reached for one of the restraints. It was specifically created for floaters and was probably the weirdest of their restraint designs, seeing as this species of alien lacked feet. The restraints were made of a mixture of alien alloys and steel and they locked the mechanical arms of the creature behind its back. A set of curving bars closed over the creature's shoulders on both sides, blocking off the jets on its back from above and below. A final fastening system ran across the front, shackling the bars on both sides together.

Hypergeek glanced up from the restrained creature and gave Awo a querying look. The lieutenant responded with a small acknowledging grunt and picked up the second set of restraints with a somewhat doubtful look in his eyes. Hypergeek left him to deal with the second prisoner and turned to Van Doorn. Jerking at the back of the restraints he pulled free a pair of handles that stretched outwards on both sides of the creature. Signaling for Van Doorn to grab onto the other end, they carried the creature down the hillside, the alien suspended between them on the stretcher-like construct.

"That was some pretty damn impressive work, stunning two of these ugly bastards. How'd it feel, getting up close there?" Van Doorn inquired from behind him. Hypergeek was carrying at the front, with his back to the alien and the old gunner.

Hypergeek leaned his head backwards, looking up into the crimson sky. Without turning his head, he spoke up into the sunset, "It was… _très satisfaisant._ Very good. It felt very good." A small smile rose to his lips as he basked in the invigorating feeling of success.

Some people think pride is a sin and modesty a virtue. Hypergeek wasn't one of them. If you are the best at something, you should take pride in your work. Before joining XCOM he had been the top dog in explosive ordnance disposal in the French elite counter-terrorism unit GIGN. Many people had perceived his attitude as snobbishness and arrogance and who knows, maybe they were right. But it had never bothered Hypergeek.

Reaching the Skyranger landing zone, Hypergeek laid eyes on the rest of their squad. Wolfer was off to the side chatting up JBowles, the frat boy of XCOM. Kungtotte was standing guard next to the aircraft, laser sniper rifle at the ready, occasionally scanning for activity in the distance through his scope. Reaching their destination, Hypergeek led Van Doorn up the ramp and into the aircraft.

Walking straight to the back of the Skyranger he laid down the alien. A set of rails was embedded into the wall of the aircraft and the engineer pulled one of the plates on the railing down to floor level. Pushing the handles back into the restraints he lifted the floater with the help of Van Doorn, shackling the creature into the wall of the aircraft. The locking mechanisms clicked as the restraints fit into the plate. Getting up and stepping backwards, he surveyed the sight critically. It was the first time the system was being used and it seemed to be doing an alright job although Hypergeek was already seeing some changes that could be made to improve it.

Looking up from the captive the engineer noticed Van Doorn staring at him. The gunner grinned and spoke up, "You take your work seriously, huh? I can respect that in a soldier."

Hypergeek turned back to eye the alien captive and muttered his agreement in French. Turning back to the American he figured he might as well try to make friendly with the man. "Would you like to join me and Medve for whiskey and cigars afterwards? Scubaman brought me a vintage from Nagoya that is _tout magnifique_."

Van Doorn lifted his eyebrows, vocalizing his approval. "Whiskey and cigars? This is like OCS all over again. Sign me up!"

Hypergeek smiled a small, polite smile at the energetic corporal. Realizing Awo and Daishi hadn't arrived yet, the engineer walked out of the Skyranger. Peering out towards the hill he saw the two of them still crouched around the alien captive. Cursing under his breath in French, the man took off in a brisk pace, ready to share a few choice words with the lieutenant.

* * *

><p>Renzol walked down one of the corridors at XCOM HQ. She was headed towards the TV room; a rare occurrence indeed. She had been so absorbed in her training, both physical and mental, over the past month and a half that most people had come to accept she never showed up at the social gatherings anymore. However, she sometimes still got tired of doing the same exercises over and over again, and tonight was one of those nights. Rounding the final corner she reached the door leading into the TV room. Cracking the heavy metal door slightly she slipped into the room.<p>

A crowd of people was gathered at the front of the room. They had pulled a few chairs around the two sofas and were watching a loud action flick on the big screen. Renzol noticed Wolfer, Awo and JBowles in the midst of the rowdy crowd, commenting loudly and obnoxiously on the action. Turning to survey the rest of the room, Renzol noticed Hunterhr in the back.

The man was sitting behind a desk with his back against the wall. The room was dark but for the back row where the lights shone down on the solitary medic. He was reading a book, his serious face betraying no emotions. Renzol started towards the back and seated herself next to the man.

As the small rocketeer pulled up a chair, Hunterhr looked up from his book. The dark-skinned man smiled gently at Renzol. "Hello there, Renzol. I haven't seen you around here for some time."

Renzol leaned against the table, looking towards the big screen with uninterested eyes. The movie seemed to be quite a ways in and it appeared impossible to get into it now. "You know, training and…things. I haven't really had the time", taking her eyes off the screen, Renzol turned to look at Hunterhr.

The man smiled his gentle smile at her before turning his attention back to his book. Renzol tried to follow the movie, but the confusing mish-mash of over-the-top action scenes and melodramatic dialogue between characters she didn't know made her regret coming over. _Might as well have borrowed another novel from Vherid,_ she thought to herself, her mood slipping down a notch.

Turning back to regard Hunterhr, Renzol observed the book in his hands. The covers were old, worn leather with no title or cover image of any kind. Examining the tome with interest, Renzol glanced up to notice Hunterhr was looking back at her. Feeling a little bit embarrassed to have been caught staring she sucked up her pride and asked, "What are you reading?"

Hunterhr closed the book with his finger in-between the pages. The man smiled quietly at Renzol before answering, "War and Peace."

Letting out a small surprised sound, Renzol shook her head a bit as she slumped against the table. "Isn't that a little heavy reading?" she asked, staring at the surface of the table.

A deep, gentle laugh emanated from Hunterhr's throat. The man placed the old book on the table and slid it over. "Try it", came his response, causing Renzol to glance up at him and then back at the book.

"No, no, no. You were reading it. It's fine", she tried to refuse politely, not wanting to inconvenience the man. Something in the medic's eyes made her feel nervous and she had an uneasy feeling about taking the book from him.

"I have read it already, a long time ago. And seems like you could use something to do besides…" Hunterhr finished the sentence by nodding towards the TV and as if on cue, a helicopter went up in flames and the crowd in front of the screen burst into laughter and exclamations of ridicule and disbelief. Giving up, Renzol smiled at the man and reached over, grabbing the large and old book and muttering a thank you.

She turned the book around in her hands. It was massive and ancient and as she turned over the cover, she noticed writing on the inside. _To my son Hunterhr on the day he answered the Call of Duty: always remember who you are and where you came from._ Tracing a finger along the old ink, Renzol looked up at the medic. Polite as ever, he had left Renzol to explore the book on her own, staring at the table in front of him, lost in thought.

Closing the book, Renzol set it in front of her on the table. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she wasn't quite sure why. "Thank you. I'll make sure to read it. It must be an important book to you." She wasn't exactly sure why she had thanked him again. Maybe the inadequate muttered thank you hadn't been worthy of such a grand gift, or maybe she was just trying to make the uneasiness go away.

Hunterhr looked back at the small woman, smiling his ever-gentle smile. He was a big man, but not in a huge way like Wolfer, Medve or the others. His face was round and even though he was clearly strong, he wasn't pure muscle. He reminded Renzol a little bit of a big, gentle, black teddy bear. _What are you thinking, girl?_ Shaking the thought off her mind, Renzol turned back to the book.

"Renzol?" Hunterhr's voice interrupted her as she was about to open the book. Looking back at the medic, she waited for him to continue. "Did you see the captives they brought in today?" the man continued, looking at the rocketeer with serious eyes, the smile gone from his face.

She had indeed seen the captives. The two aliens had been stunned and shackled tight as the research team had hurried them over to the newly built alien containment facilities. Coming back from her thoughts, she looked back at Hunterhr. "I did. Why so?"

There was a mysterious look in the medic's eyes as he asked her yet another question, "What do you think we are going to do with them? Do you think they will get treatment worthy of a prisoner of war?" Renzol stared at the man, completely aghast. Prisoner of war? These creatures were invading their planet, slaughtering their comrades and abducting their civilians.

Struggling to find the words, Renzol stuttered at the man. Finally finding the words, she spoke in agitation, "POW? What the hell Hunterhr, I saw these creatures kill Hawkeye. You think they deserve mercy?" The man seemed stoic in front of her flabbergasted reaction.

Hunterhr looked away from her and towards the big screen. With a quiet tone, he answered, "Why do you think they are doing this, Renzol? Have you stopped to think about why our enemy is doing what they are doing?" Turning back to the woman, a puzzled look on Renzol's face greeted him.

"Sectoids, floaters, thin men, outsiders, chryssalids, mutons, robotic seekers and drones… what do they have in common, Renzol? Why are they doing this?" The stare he was giving the small woman was intent, and Renzol felt like a confused little girl, lacking the answers to all of his questions. The uneasiness inside her had transformed into an ever-rising anxiety. She opened her mouth, but didn't manage to find the words to answer him.

Hunterhr leaned in closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. Looking her solemnly in the eye, he voiced his concerns, "Are we fighting invading soldiers, Renzol? Or are we fighting disposable slaves, thrown at us wave after wave?"

Renzol answered his stare, the anxiety inside of her growing unbearable. Getting up from the table she muttered a hasty apology. Excusing herself, she strode across the room with shaky legs, slipping back out into the corridor. Her heart was beating frantically and a mixture of emotions raged inside of her.

_I need to calm down. I need the Box._ Her walk turned into a jog and her jog turned into a sprint as she made her way towards the sports section of the base. One of the courts was bound to be empty and she needed time alone.


	36. Chapter 35: Tears

Chapter 35: Tears

Sun was setting down over the Brazilian train yard. The huge leaves of palm trees swung lazily in the wind, oblivious to the plasma bomb charging up below them. The fierce sounds of battle filled the air as Earth's finest struggled to defuse the device in the middle of the populous city of Fortaleza.

Drake let out a sharp curse as the scatter laser kicked against her shoulder, sending the barrage of high-energy bursting past the seeker. Her right shoulder was smoldering under the Kevlar bomb-vest she was wearing, courtesy of the now-deceased thin man. Pumping her weapon, Drake watched the seeker loosen its grip on Zim as the combined lasers from Stoli and Morgan sizzled at its carapace, leaving deep burn marks on the creature.

Taking off into the sky, the seeker didn't make it far. Zim collapsed on her back, an incoherent gurgle of a curse leaving her mouth as she hosed a spray of lasers into the sky. With the seeker's inner systems deep fried, the mechanical alien spun off and away from the squad, like a kid's remote controlled helicopter losing control.

With a grimace, Drake turned back into the fight. Several more slender figures dashed between the railcars up ahead and Instinct was alone in the vanguard, supported only by Vherid. A hand on her arm stopped her. "You can't fight like that. Let me help."

Turning around, Drake saw Hunterhr behind the cargo boxes next to her, first aid kit on hand. Nodding her approval, Drake pushed up against the crates and turned her right shoulder to the medic. Grinning in pain as the man examined the burn on her shoulder, Drake turned her head to look back into the fight.

Stoli dashed up along the train tracks, headed for one of the large alien pods scattered around the train yard. The thin men pushed up into cover in one of the railcars right in front of the squad, ready to strike. With a loud cheer, Stoli sent the high explosive grenade spinning through the air. The explosion caught the aliens off guard, the walls of their precious railcar going up in a storm of splinters and fire.

As Hunterhr sprayed anti-burn foam into her wound, Drake watched on with a satisfied grin as her squad converted the advantage. Lasers fired down on the exposed enemy, shredding the bodies of the three thin men into fine acidic mist in the darkening air. Even one seeker had been caught in the explosion, its sneaky cloaking device not so useful against the raw explosive power of Stoli's grenade.

"NO!" the shout left Drake's lips as she realized the squad's right flank was compromised. A solitary thin man took aim on Stoli, and Drake was away. She pushed her thighs as hard as she could, her boots sending up gravel and dust from the train yard's ground. The thin man fired his plasma carbine and a scream of horror from Stoli echoed across the battlefield. _At least she shouted. She's not dead._

Seeing the alien pull back behind the tanker railcar it was using for cover, Drake closed the last few meters to the target. Sliding past the corner, she fired her scatter laser at the alien. From point-blank range, the rays of energy tore the thin man's body apart, spewing acid everywhere. As the cloud engulfed her, Drake coughed wildly as the substance got into her throat. Through stinging eyes, she saw more enemies behind the next railcars.

Instinct rushed past her as she stepped back behind the tanker, the man taking cover behind some crates next to a railcar across from her. The Nigerian assault yelled a warning as a seeker he fired at pushed right through the scattering rays of laser and towards Drake. Dreading the backlash of the acid, Drake brought her scatter laser up on target, all too late.

The muzzle of the flier flashed green and a barrage of plasma struck her in the stomach. The jolt of the impact through her bomb vest shook her body, the acid burrowing deep into her nerves. With darkening eyes, Drake let out a whimper as she fell to her knees, shaking her head in denial.

A barrage of lasers blasted past her head, laying the seeker down. Through slanted eyes, Drake saw Instinct rush towards the remaining thin man and sectoid, headed for a bomb node further ahead. Putting out an arm, Drake steadied herself against the tanker car next to her. A sizzling pain shot up her arm and into her brain as a stream of plasma ploughed its way along her outstretched limb. With a whimper, Drake fell backwards and onto the train tracks below her.

Staring up into the sky, she saw the palm trees sway gently in the crimson light. The acid burned in her wounds as she helplessly waited for her squad to save her. _Is this how Foogle felt? There was no one to save her._

The face of Hunterhr appeared in her vision, replacing the palm trees. The medic was calm as ever with a serious look in his eyes. Spreading his first aid kit next to her on the ground, the man got to work. The anti-acid foam from his sprayer neutralized the acid in her wounds and the man lifted her head up, pouring cleansing liquid down her throat. Drake gagged as she swallowed the horrific liquid down with a grimace. Taking up her arm the man furrowed his brow before spraying anti-burn foam into the long gash.

Drake gasped for air as the pain from the wound rushed her senses. Hunterhr muttered soothingly as he worked, grabbing a syringe of powerful anesthetic and injecting the substance into her arm. It was designed to remove the pain while leaving a soldier's extremities still functional. Taking in a trembling breath, Drake whispered, "How bad is it?"

Hunterhr tossed the empty syringe away, grabbing onto the assault's outstretched healthy right arm. Pulling her up, the man spoke encouragingly, "It'll be fine, Drake. Don't worry about it."

Drake forced the ominous feeling away from her mind, swallowing the lump that was starting to form at the back of her throat. Pushing towards the plasma bomb, she ordered her people into position around the explosive device. The area wasn't secure yet. The disturbing screams of thin men echoed around the train yard as more enemies closed in on them.

The plasma bomb was standing next to an open railcar at the edge of the train yard. The design of the bomb was the same they had faced before in London, and every soldier in the outfit was trained to defuse them. Powering the alien device down, Drake could hear the shrill screams get louder.

A shadowy figure dashed past the open railcar and Drake wheeled around, bringing her scatter laser up. The thin man let out its last screech as a laser from behind Drake burned a gaping hole into the alien's neat suit. "Here they come, get ready!" Drake hollered, pulling her laser pistol as she saw movement from the corner of her eye.

From the end of their line of railcars, a thin man came running out into the open. Morgan nailed the creature with her laser rifle, and the loud _oooohhh yyyeeaaaahhh_ from Stoli signaled a grenade on its way. Through incredible agility or sheer luck, the thin man bent and wiggled its way past the explosion of fragments, unscathed. Taking aim, Drake pulled the trigger and the thin man's head melted away in a gush of acid.

The sounds of firing lasers from the railcar lines towards the middle of the yard spoke of a battle between Morgan, Zim and the enemy. A yell from Instinct alerted Drake to enemies approaching from where the XCOM squad had assaulted the bomb from. Both assaults grabbing their flashbangs, they tossed the grenades over the railcars as Instinct dashed towards the enemy.

A disoriented thin man poked its head over the open railcar and Drake cursed as she struggled to bring her scatter laser back up. The alien fired across the yard, drawing a cry of dismay from Hunterhr as his flank was left wide open, the barrage barely missing his head. Before Drake got to pull the trigger, a sizzling laser beam from Vherid's strike rifle put an end to the creature's flanking shenanigans.

A yell from Instinct down the line and the quieting of laser fire from Zim's and Morgan's position signaled the end of the short yet brutal battle. Drake brought a hand to her earpiece and reported to her headset before slumping against the railcar, the receding adrenaline rush leaving her body aching numbly all over.

* * *

><p>Kilroy arrived at the medbay, coming to a halt from her run. Her brow was furrowed in concern and the sight inside made her draw a sharp breath. A medicinal cart was lying across the floor of the medbay, its contents spilled all over the floor. A drip's rack was propped up against the back wall and the drip itself and its tube were tossed into the corridor, the medicinal fluids from inside spilling all over. A shocked Squint was looking at her from her bed and Kamikaze was pacing around the medbay restlessly. A nurse was crouched on the floor, collecting the various medicine bottles and medical implements with a dark frown on her face.<p>

"Where did she go? I came as fast as I could", the assault asked from the people in the room, earning a helpless shrug from Squint and a poisonous stare from the nurse. The woman returned to her work, not bothering to answer Kilroy.

From the other side of the room, Burncycle spoke up from his bed. "I saw her turn right", the Japanese scout instructed, pointing the way. Kilroy muttered a thank you and took off in a jog, hoping to find her friend before the base security would. _Goddamn it Drake. What the hell are you doing?_

She looked for any signs in the corridor as to where her friend could have gone. Coming to an intersection, she pondered for a moment. Trusting her instincts, she started down the path leading to the sports section of the base. As she approached the various courts, sure enough, she spotted a drop of blood on the side of the pathway. Now positive she knew where Drake had gone, Kilroy headed straight for the squash court. As she drew closer to her destination, she noted with some worry that the drops of blood were appearing more frequently now. Arriving at the court Kilroy took a deep breath, pushing the door open gently and slipping inside, closing the door behind her.

The room was completely dark. Reaching for the light switch on the side of the door, Kilroy stopped her hand. "Drake?" she spoke gently into the dark room. No answer. Turning the lights on to the entrance of the court, the fluorescent lights blinded her for a moment. Glancing towards the rest of the room, she saw a figure hunched against the wall at the very back of the room. The lights barely reached there, and the figure was draped in deep shadows.

Making her way over, Kilroy noticed the trail of blood leading across the squash court. It wasn't the heavy bleeding of an artery, but it still made Kilroy feel uneasy. Drawing closer to her friend, Kilroy's heart lurched at the sight.

Drake was sitting against the wall with her knees up to her chest. The woman was resting her forehead on her knees and she had her arms around her legs. The whole length of her left arm was bandaged, but the gauze was coming loose and the bandages were stained red. The right side of her gown was red with blood, the bandaging on her shoulder only halfway done.

Kilroy sat down next to her friend. She didn't say anything, and the two women just sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally Drake stirred, and with a quiet sniffle, she turned her head to peek at Kilroy. Her eyes were red and her dark hair was hanging messily over her face, hiding most of her features. Kilroy looked at her with sorrowful eyes as she felt something choke at her throat. She hadn't planned for anything, but seeing her friend like this was too much. Tears flooded her eyes as a low whimper left her throat.

Leaning over to the injured assault, Kilroy draped her arms around her sister. Letting out a pitiful sob, she buried her face in Drake's hair. "Drake…I'm so sorry…" she managed to whisper with a shaky voice, choking on the words. Drake trembled in her arms, quietly at first. But as the floodgates of pain and frustration finally opened up, the trembling turned into shaking and the shaking into convulsions.

With a heartbreaking wail, Drake buried her face in Kilroy's chest, finally letting go. Holding onto her tightly, Kilroy couldn't make her own tears stop. And so the two assaults wept together, the squash court filled with their sobs and the inconsolable whimpers of Drake.

Eventually the tears died down, and Kilroy consoled her sister with warm and gentle caresses. There was no need for words. Kilroy had spent enough time in the medbay and with Drake to understand. Giving her hair a soft kiss, Kilroy muttered softly, "Are you ready to go back?"

Drake looked up at her, caramel face streaked with tears, eyes red and sorrowful. Snot ran down from her nose and over her lips. Kilroy reached over and wiped away the blobs, earning a small giggle from Drake. Pulling the sleeve of her gown over her face, Drake wiped away the rest of the tears. Laying her head down against Kilroy's shoulder, she whispered, "Just a little longer."

And so they sat in embrace for a few more minutes, in silence. When it was finally time to go back, Kilroy pushed aside the base security and medical staff who demanded answers, making them back down with sharp stares and threats of violence. She led Drake all the way to her bed and fetched screens around her, getting a single nurse to tend to her wounds. Holding her little sister's hand, Kilroy watched her finally drift off to a peaceful slumber.

Standing ever vigilant, she didn't leave Drake's side for the remainder of the night.


	37. Chapter 36: Eyes on Me

Chapter 36: Eyes on Me

Renzol lied down in her bunk, her head propped up against her hands. Her eyes were scanning the words on the ancient book as she immersed herself in the stories of Anna, Pierre and the rest of the huge cast of _War and Peace_. She was a dozen pages in and it was indeed heavy reading as she had expected; but that's not to say it was a bad thing.

Reaching the end of the chapter, she fiddled with the corner of the old covers absentmindedly. Hunterhr had paid her a visit the following morning after their encounter in the TV room. The medic had had the old tome under his arm and an apologetic smile on his face.

"_I'm sorry for upsetting you. I did not realize you would react like that. These must be stressing times for you." _The medic had walked over to her bunk and offered her the tome. Renzol had accepted it with a smile and a muttered apology of her own.

"_Don't worry about it. I was just on edge. The stress just gets to you sometimes, you know?" _A moment of silence had passed between them, Renzol sitting on the edge of her bed and turning the book around in her hands.

Hunterhr had been the one to break the silence. _"Those are just the types of things I like to think about. I want you to know it doesn't affect my actions on the field. I know as well as anyone what the stakes are here. Just think of them as the musings of a man who takes this world too seriously sometimes." _A small smile of self-irony had risen to the medic's lips, and Renzol had conveyed her understanding with a smile and a nod. They had chatted for a while longer before the man had excused himself, leaving her to dive into the book.

It had taken Renzol quite a while to calm down that night after the TV room. She had banished the thoughts of ethics and morality into the Box, but it hadn't been enough to calm her down. The rapid beating of her heart and the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach had taken a lot longer to dissipate. She was certain it wasn't all because of the ethical concerns Hunterhr had brought up. But if not that, then what?

Shaking herself back from the memories, Renzol glanced around the room. Vherid and Hypergeek were still gathered around the table in the back of the room. The sniper had taken it upon himself to teach the people in the room how to play a weird card game called Magic: The Gathering. The Belgian engineer had his brow in a deep furrow as he struggled to understand the rules.

Renzol smiled slightly at the sight. Vherid was really quite the personality. His interests in sci-fi and fantasy reminded Renzol of her little brother. But unlike her little brother who had seemed almost ashamed of the things he enjoyed, Vherid didn't seem to care at all what other people thought of him. Renzol giggled quietly as Hypergeek shook his head in confusion, drawing another lecture from Vherid. Who knows, maybe he would actually manage to find somebody to play with.

Grabbing her caterpillar bookmark, Renzol let out a small giggle as she laid it in-between the pages of the ancient book. The cute bookworm wearing glasses seemed so out of place on the yellow pages of the hundred-years-old book. Closing the tome, she got up to a sitting position and stretched her neck and shoulders. She had been part of the squad deployed against an alien terror attack in Melbourne yesterday, and she had the day off. But she wasn't about to rest on her laurels the whole day.

Getting up, Renzol walked up to her closet and started gathering her training gear. The book wasn't going anywhere, and the encounter in the TV room had made her wary of the apparent lapse in discipline. It was time to buckle down and make sure she wouldn't lose control of her emotions like that again.

* * *

><p>Squint was standing next to her medbay bed in a somewhat melancholic mood. She was wearing the standard issue clothing of the XCOM operatives and the small items she'd had with her during her recovery were packed into a small bag. The time had come for her and Kamikaze's discharge.<p>

She felt a familiar tingle in the back of her neck and a small smile rose to her lips. Kamikaze must have been looking at her. She had known since day one that the man had spent more of his time looking at her rather than at the TV, yet she had acted oblivious about it. He must have noticed she knew, but neither of them had brought it up. How WOULD you even bring something like that up? So hey, I know you've been watching me and I just wanna tell you I'm okay with it? Squint's shoulders heaved slightly as she suppressed the giggle with her hand.

She had known he had been watching, and she had enjoyed it. Kamikaze was a good-hearted man: he was gentle yet strong, serious yet he still possessed a healthy sense of humor. Feeling his eyes on her had made Squint feel safe and protected. That night when he had consoled her after the paramedics had brought in the injured Prowler was a glowing, warm memory in her mind. The man had gently closed her wounds with his touch and his presence, and a slight flush rose to Squint's cheeks at the memory.

And that brought her back to the moment, and the feelings of melancholy. They would be leaving the medbay, and thus their time together would come to an end. She felt her heart beat faster as the thought of starting that conversation with Kamikaze rose to mind. What if he didn't take the initiative? She wouldn't give up so easily, so if she had to be the one to do it, she would. A determined look appeared on her face as she took in a deep breath.

But where? How? The base was full of curious personnel and they lived in separate rooms. The barracks was definitely off-limits, there was no way she would let other people listen in on them. The empty rooms had been locked up after Zim's sleeping episode, so that was out of the question too. The sports courts? What if she took him there and somebody was out practicing? Would she have to bring her gear with her so she could pretend she had actually only wanted to train in the first place? Just take him to some random corridor like they were characters in some dumb high school anime? What if base security patrolled past them? Squint's head spun around with wild thoughts as she felt her throat choke up at how impossible it all seemed. _I hope he makes the first move,_ she thought weakly to herself, letting out a deep sigh.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump up, a small scream escaping her throat. She turned to find a very puzzled Kamikaze staring at her, his hand withdrawn and a doubtful look on his face. Pretending she was coughing, Squint quickly brought a hand up to her chest and doubled over, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment. _This is the worst. Get yourself together, girl!_

Straightening her back, she smiled an embarrassed smile at the man. "Wow! Something caught like, right in the tubes there. Haha, you know how it is!" Turning away, she kicked herself for the feeble excuse and stumbled words.

The nurse arriving in the main room relieved her from the horrifically awkward moment. The woman walked up to them with a smile on her face. Speaking their names, she announced they were discharged from the medbay. Squint strode over to the woman with a brisk pace, giving her a quick hug before signing her name on the papers. _You sure seem terribly eager to get out of here. What if he takes it the wrong way?_ The thought made her insides freeze with irrational fear. _No! You're just nervous, you stupid, silly little girl! Pull yourself the fuck together RIGHT NOW!_ Squint felt like screaming. She wanted to grab onto her hair and pull as hard as she could. She wanted to turn around, dash up to Kamikaze and just kiss him right now. She wanted to do a million different things and it was driving her insane.

Stepping out into the corridor, she turned to look back as Kamikaze signed his name. The man followed after her, a ponderous look on his face. "Finally recovered, huh?" Squint muttered, trying to lighten the mood. Kamikaze responded with a smiling nod as they started down the corridor and towards the barracks. The air hung heavy between them as neither had the courage to speak up amidst the awkwardness. Squeezing her eyes shut once again, Squint shook in her boots. _Do it! Just do it right now before we reach the barracks!_

From down the corridor, two heads popped into view from behind the corner. Scubaman was smiling his best _Zorro_-smile and Kilroy was grinning from ear to ear. Glancing at each other, the pair let out small titters before jumping out into the corridor.

The sudden blare of a party horn caused Squint's heart to jump up into her throat as she was about to blurt out her feelings. Opening her eyes she screamed as Scubaman and Kilroy yelled their congratulations in front of them. "Happy Recovery Day! This way my dear, this way!" Kilroy was shouting, grabbing Squint by her arm as Scubaman stepped behind Kamikaze, pushing the man down the corridor. The Latino was blowing small fanfares on his cheap party horn, drawing puzzled looks from Kamikaze.

Squint didn't have time to react as she was pulled down the corridor by Kilroy. The woman led her down to the wing of the barracks where most of the empty rooms were located at. Reaching the end of the corridor, Kilroy pushed open the door to the last room and tossed Squint inside. Scubaman followed, slapping Kamikaze on the back as the man stumbled into the room.

The two seniors grinned at them from the doorway. "Enjoy your Recovery Day dinner!" came the cheer from them as they started to close the door. Squint tried to protest weakly but she was cut off by the door slamming shut in front of her. She was brought back into the reality of the situation as Kamikaze let out a low laugh next to her. Wheeling around, Squint laid eyes on the room properly for the first time.

The lights were out but for a single candle. The table from the back of the room had been pulled into the middle and the long dinner candle laid a halo of light around the simple wooden table. A white bedsheet had been folded and spread out over the table. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat next to the candle, alongside a box of crackers and some processed cheese.

Squint walked over to the table, agape. A small, folded piece of paper sat on the edge next to an iPad. Turning over the paper, she read the words out loud, "Recovery Day dinner for two. Enjoy your special occasion while it lasts! For music, choose playlist _Amor Argentina._" The message was signed off with a slashed "Z". Laughing at the absurdity of the notion, she turned around to find Kamikaze walking up to the table.

The man glanced at the note in her hands, smiling at her. Walking up to one of the chairs, the man pulled it out from under the table, looking at her expectantly. "Shall we?" Kamikaze queried, and Squint giggled at his solemn display. Seating herself over-elegantly, she thanked the man in her noblest of tones.

As Kamikaze rounded the table to sit down, Squint reached over for the crackers. Examining the box, she noted it was the same kind that was served in the cafeteria. "That's some fine eating" she muttered sarcastically, earning a smile from Kamikaze.

The man took the wine bottle in his hands and rolled the cap open. Pouring them both a glass of red wine, the man lifted his own. "For recovery", he proposed a toast with a glimmer in his eye.

Squint tittered at the man, clinking her glass against his and joining the toast, "For Recovery DAY."

Taking a sip of the wine, Squint noted it wasn't half bad. Reaching for a cracker, she scooped plenty of processed cheese on top. Laughing at Kamikaze who was staring at her intently, she plopped the treat into her mouth. Munching loudly, she veered her head left-to-right judgingly. An approving look appeared on her face as she swallowed the food. "Not bad! A meal worthy of Recovery Day!" she exclaimed, both of them letting out a heartfelt laugh as Kamikaze reached for one himself.

They continued to sip wine and eat crackers as they joked about the whole situation. The tension from before had disappeared with the good spirits, and the wine was quickly loosening her up even more. _You wanna be careful, girl. Don't wanna let this go TOO quickly._ The silly thought caused Squint to bring a hand up to her mouth as she tried to suppress the giggle, Kamikaze giving her a puzzled and amused glance. She shook her head at the man to indicate it was nothing, the slightest of flushing rising to her cheeks.

"Okay, let's see what this is all about", Kamikaze declared as he reached for the iPod connected to a small speaker. Turning the mp3 player on, he chose the playlist labeled _Amor Argentina_. Soft tunes of Latin American guitar filled the air and Kamikaze laid the player back on the table.

Lifting her glass in another toast, Squint smiled seductively at the man in front of him. "For _Amor Argentina_", she proposed in a husky voice filled with passion. Kamikaze joined her, but instead of laughing her exaggerated toast off, the man responded with mannerisms matching her own. Squint felt her heart jump a little as their glasses clinked, and she felt his eyes on her as they drank the wine, her neck tingling with the sensation. _I must be dreaming_, she thought to herself, prolonging the sip as she savored the moment.

The gentle tunes of the music turned the conversation from joking and light-hearted to serious and adult. Squint did most of the talking, but Kamikaze wasn't left idle either as the man commented and responded on her topics. They spoke of their hopes and dreams and of family back home. Of the future, still so uncertain yet anticipated, looming right over the horizon. The talk of the alien war was notable in its absence as the two of them enjoyed their evening together. The bottle of wine was drained at a leisurely pace and the crackers and processed cheese had been pushed aside quite some time ago.

As a slow song with soft tunes of guitar and piano came on, Kamikaze quieted for a while. Looking Squint in the eye, the man spoke his question, the talking done for now. "Will you dance with me?"

The nervousness had disappeared from her ages ago, and Squint responded with a heartfelt _yes_ and a solemn nod. The man got up from his side of the table, offering her a hand. Squint took up the offer, rising from her chair. She slipped her arms under his, placing them on his back. As she felt the touch on her waist, a quiet sigh of satisfaction left her lips. Closing her eyes, Squint rested her head against Kamikaze's strong chest.

They swayed ever-so-slightly to the soft tunes of piano and guitar. Squint felt an aching in her heart. She felt like it would burst in her chest; she felt so impossibly lonely and happy at the same time. Drawing in a shaky breath, she opened her mouth into a quiet whisper.

"I knew since day one. Your gentle eyes on me. Knowing you watched over me made me feel safe. Knowing you watched ME. It made me feel beautiful. It made me happy." Her eyes were closed and she could feel the tears bubbling below the surface. A gentle hand on her chin lifted her upwards, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her.

Kamikaze was smiling a gentle smile. His eyes were deep wells of hazelnut, full of emotion. The hand below her chin moved, pushing a lock of hair gently from her face. "Squint", the man spoke in a husky tone. "I care for you. You are so, so precious to me."

She closed her eyes and the tears rolled down her cheeks. Parting her lips ever-so-slightly, she invited him in. His lips pressed against hers, and Squint lost herself in the moment. It was sweet, intoxicating, choking, with the slightest hint of processed cheese and red wine. It was everything in the world at the same time. It completed her and tore her apart. She felt herself go limp in his arms, surrendering into his strong and reliable embrace.

All too soon, it was over. Kamikaze's lips departed from hers, and Squint opened her eyes. She was weeping openly, and the man smiled at her. He looked happy, happier than any man has ever been. _He damn well better be_, a whimsical thought crossed her mind. Not satisfied, Squint reached a hand behind his head. Grabbing Kamikaze's hair, she pulled him back down, this time into an adult's kiss.

She parted her lips as their tongues met, tentative at first. But the kiss soon turned into a dance of its own as they explored each other to the passionate and soft tunes of _Amor Argentina_. The night was still young, and they were desperately thirsty for each other. After all, they had travelled through a desert together, and it was finally time to quench that thirst.


	38. Chapter 37: Ride of the Valkyries

Chapter 37: Ride of the Valkyries

Cell held onto the safety frame of her seat as the Skyranger flew in low over the forest and towards the UFO landing site. The operatives around the sergeant were fresh-faced with a few couple-days veterans. Volatile was finally ready for action after spending two consecutive months in the medbay. _Almost as bad as Drake. Almost,_ Cell thought to herself as she surveyed her second-in-command. Volatile's short-cropped hair under her beret combined with her homely, masculine features almost made it seem like it wasn't an all-female squad after all. She was staring intently at the sunglasses in her hand, remnants from Frag's last operation. _She's got something to prove. I can see that,_ the squad leader thought to herself, turning her eyes onto the rest of her valkyries.

Gamage was smiling happily as she stared off into the roof of the Skyranger. The youthful Italian private looked like she was off to spend a happy weekend in Disneyland. Cell smiled slightly at the sight. Either she would make a great soldier, or she would be the first to fall. Gamage's roommates Ratamacue and Pavehawk were sitting on either side of the woman. Rata was a dark-skinned Frenchwoman with a pondering look on her face as she regarded the scatter laser in her hands. It was a weapon usually reserved for the assault and scout classes, but the infantry of XCOM were also familiar and trained with the weapon. Pavehawk rounded off the trio, the no-nonsense Italian rookie whispering something to Gamage every once in a while, drawing seemingly no reactions from the happily-smiling woman.

Jive and Doubleumc rounded off the squad. Jive was trying to focus, but the endless chatter of Doubleumc seemed to make it hard for the South African. The British medic with light-brown hair and a mole on her nose was quite something indeed. Her mouth seemed to be in constant motion, filling whatever space she was in with endless pabulum. Sometimes it was engaging and worth your time; more often than not it wasn't. The medic definitely had a talent for dragging her speech out, and she must have loved the sound her own voice. At least her accent and voice were interesting, allowing Cell to turn the woman's endless droning into pleasant background noise.

The pilot announced their immediate landing and Cell took the attention of the squad, "Listen up, girls. This is a landed UFO, no matter how small. That means all the more glory to us when we come back home to the guys with this baby in tow. Let's show those slobs what the women of XCOM are made of!"

The girls around the Skyranger let out loud cheers and laughs, the dead-serious yelling of Pavehawk especially amusing to Cell. Volatile turned to look at her squad leader and Cell met her gaze with a grin and an encouraging nod. This is what she was made for. A soldier since she turned eighteen, the past seven years all seemed to make sense now. Fighting for a free Earth: this was her calling. This was her destiny.

As the Skyranger came to a landing, Cell was the first to swing aside her safety frame and get up from her seat. Grabbing the autolaser off the rack on the wall, she shouted for everyone to get in formation. The squad formed up on her as the ramp lowered into the scorching June afternoon.

Rushing down the ramp, Cell splashed her way into the shallow brook. A pine forest rose all around the small stream as sunlight glimmered blindingly off the water. However, below the canopy of the forest the shadows ruled but for the occasional ray of sunlight shining down on the undergrowth. It was a hard choice whether to use sunglasses or not, and Cell had given the squad free reign on their equipment in that regard. Volatile slipped on the glasses from Frag's last operation as she strode up to Cell.

"Take Gamage and Jive into the vanguard, we're pushing up on that hill", Cell gave her orders as she signaled towards the rising hillside to their left. Volatile gave a curt nod in response and muttered her acknowledgment as she signaled for Gamage and Jive to join her. Cell followed up with the rest of the squad in formation behind her.

Starting up the sloping hillside, contact wasn't far off. Gamage yelled out her warning as three floaters burst into view through the canopy of the forest. They took cover on the hilltop above them and Cell yelled for her people to get in position behind her. She dashed up to a pine tree and steadied her autolaser as Gamage, Volatile and Jive took fighting positions on her right.

The heavy weapon in her hands burst into life as she laid down suppressive fire on the enemy. Two of the aliens pulled back behind their trees while one dashed forwards, flying wildly through the forest. Laser fire fizzed past the alien as its jets propelled the half-organic, half-machine construct towards her people. Rounding between the last trees on its way towards the soldiers in the vanguard, the alien's flight was cancelled as a surgical laser from the smiling Gamage's laser carbine sliced its head open.

Taking a moment from her suppression duties, Cell let the autolaser cool off. Seeing its moment come, the floater right on top of the hill took a shot at Jive, drawing a scream of pain from the infantrywoman. Cell cursed as she brought her weapon back up, spraying another barrage of high-energy at the enemy. Jive limped away from her position, Volatile slapping the woman in the back as she moved up to take her place. The angle was awkward to assault the enemy entrenched at the top of the hill, and good positions to fight from were few and far between.

A red cloud from Doubleumc's smoke grenade bloomed around Cell as the medic supported her squad from the back. Ratamacue dashed up, taking cover behind an outcropping in the hill. The woman ducked her head down behind the bluff as the enemy held their position, sending a stream of plasma whizzing past her.

As much as Cell loved killing aliens, she didn't really care who in the squad did the killing. "Running dry, push up!" she shouted as the autolaser in her hands heated up for its final round of suppressive fire. As the deafening crashing of the weapon started up once again, Ratamacue jumped up from behind the bluff. She fired her scatter laser at the creature on top of the hill, connecting solidly. The alien yelled in pain as it retreated behind its tree. Retreated too far. A laser from Volatile's rifle struck the creature in the back, dropping it into the undergrowth in a burning husk of flesh and metal.

The last alien on the hill saw its brethren die, and ducked its head down behind the rock it was using for cover. Cell moved up with Gamage and Pavehawk, reloading her autolaser as Ratamacue was firing her scatter laser wildly at the enemy. The Frenchwoman scored a hit and Gamage scored another, but it wasn't enough. Lasers from the rest of the squad fizzled uselessly past the creature's head as it hid behind its rock. Finally the fire halted for a moment, and the alien dashed up. Flying towards the squad in a suicide-charge, it sent a salvo of plasma flying past Ratamacue's head. The woman pulled into cover in front of the assault, and the floater descended on the squad, jets blazing.

The red lights on her autolaser lit up as the fresh energy cell brought the weapon back online. Cell wheeled the heavy gun on target and released a massive spray of energy at the charging floater. The lasers covered a wide area, leaving nothing to chance. The alien gave a muffled howl as the red fire burned away the front of its body, sending it crashing down. The alien hit the ground in front of Cell at full-speed and the towering gunner ducked. The carcass went spiraling over her and down the hillside, finally landing in the stream with an impressive splash. A lazy spiral of smoke rose from its remains as Cell wheeled around to reorient her squad.

Her people reloaded as they took the hill. Ratamacue took the lead with her scatter laser readied, moving along the hillside under the shade of the pine trees. The landed UFO loomed some distance ahead of them, at the end of the long hillside where the stream from beyond the alien craft split up to run along both sides of the hill. Cell took Jive with her as they moved to support Rata and sure enough, an alarm from the Frenchwoman signaled more enemies coming in.

Ducking behind one of the massive pine trees, Rata took cover from the floaters flying in from the UFO. Jive fired her laser rifle next to Cell and the gunner followed suit, their combined efforts dropping the front runner of the enemy into the undergrowth of the forested hill. More laser fire rained down from behind them, sizzling past the remaining two floaters, disappearing into the canopy of needles above them.

Covered by her squad, Rata peeked out from behind her tree. The scatter laser exploded in her hands and another floater dropped from the sky. The woman let out a cheer as she pumped her weapon, but one enemy still remained.

The floater came at Rata with ferocity; whether it was driven by bloodlust or desire to avenge its fallen podmates, Cell didn't know. The creature barreled up towards the canopy of the forest, laser fire fizzing right past it. Reaching the high-point of its flight, its jets reoriented and the floater dove in on Ratamacue like a falcon on the hunt. Cell spun up her autolaser and the descending alien was engulfed in her cone of fire.

It wasn't enough. The floater howled as it closed in on Rata, enraged. The plasma carbine flared in its hand as it sent a salvo at the infantrywoman, striking Rata in her side. The woman let out a sharp cry of pain as she huddled behind the tree in front of the relentless death-charge.

The floater's death-charge, that is. Cell's autolaser spun up once more as she released her fury on the alien. The wounded flier made no sound as it was torn to pieces under the barrage of energy, dropping into the bushes and rocks below it in a smoldering husk. _Come and try to kill one of my girls!_ The thought rose to Cell's mind as the autolaser finally quieted in her hands.

As soon as the last enemy had died, more showed up. From the right side of the hill, a muton lumbered out of the UFO with a pet floater on its heels. "Take the ridge to my left!" Cell cried out and took off towards the enemy. Rata let out a hopeful shot with her scatter laser before complying, taking cover behind another tree to her left. Cell dashed up to the position Rata had occupied previously and took aim. The weapon still had some juice in it, and she wasn't about to let the extremely dangerous enemy combatant go unchecked. The muzzle of her autolaser spat out its crimson fire as she locked down the muton at the end of the hill.

The rest of the squad moved to the ridge under the cover of her fire as Gamage and Doubleumc stayed back to support. The muton responded to her with a wild spray of plasma, the hot air pushing past her helmet. "I'm out!" Cell yelled as the howling of her weapon died down. Hurriedly, she dropped down to one knee and released the empty energy cell as she started to reload. A red cloud bloomed over the squad as Doubleumc supported them from the back once again, the medic's contributions as invaluable to the squad as anyone else's.

Rata had received a dose of painkilling anti-burn foam from Pavehawk's medkit, and the infantrywoman moved into the vanguard once again. Through the cover of the smoke, she ducked her head down as the floater tried to catch her out in the open. The salvo of energy burned its way through the canopy, letting in fresh rays of light on the squad. Rata ducked down under an overturned log, peering towards the enemy. "No eyes on!" the woman reported back to the squad, her view obstructed by the bushes of the forested hillside's undergrowth.

"Jive and Volatile, fall back! We'll set a stepped trap for them! Rata, get back right now!" Cell ordered as she was finishing with her reload, the weapon slowly lighting up once again. Her troopers acknowledged the order and Ratamacue jumped into cover on her left behind a small outcropping of rocks on the top of the hill.

From out of nowhere, a massive jet of plasma burned its way through the undergrowth of the hillside. The fire buried into Ratamacue's chest, and the woman went down with a whimper. "Gamage! Get that medkit on point ASAP!" Cell shouted as she stepped out of cover, clenching her teeth together in anger and determination. She couldn't see the muton that had struck Rata down, but she did see the floater. Laying down a barrage of suppressive fire on the enemy, the alien's return fire whizzed past her as she pinned the creature down behind its rock. Gamage dashed past her to the ridge of the hill, the jolly smile gone from her face as she pulled the first aid kit out of her rigging.

To her right, Doubleumc, Volatile and Jive scrambled down the hillside and into the stream. A laser from Volatile's rifle pierced through the muton's armor and the beast roared defiantly in anger, sending chills down the human combatants' spines. A wild spray from Doubleumc's shatterray fizzed wide and as the alien was about to take cover from the relentless assault on its flank, Jive nailed it to the hillside, a gaping hole burned through its thick armor plating.

Cell's autolaser died down once more as she let the weapon cool down, and the floater fired wildly at her. Gritting her teeth in determination, Cell pushed out of cover to defy the return fire, pinning the enemy down with another huge burst of laser fire. "Move up! I'll cover you!" she yelled over the screaming of her weapon, and the operatives splashed forwards at the bottom of the stream.

Letting the weapon cool for a moment, Cell waited for the enemy to respond. The response never came as the floater hunkered down behind its outcropping in the hillside. _You better fear me_, the gunner thought to herself as the weapon burst into life once again, the lasers leaving scorched patches on the alloys of the UFO behind the enemy.

Yelling out her reload, Cell pulled into cover and looked towards her squad down by the stream. Everyone except Gamage, who was tending to Ratamacue, was there. Their attempts to flank the alien had been cut off by a no-man's land as the shallow stream widened in front of them. Instead of flanking, the operatives were huddled behind overturned logs with weapons steadied and propped up against their cover. And as Cell's suppressive fire had run out, they burst into action.

Jive was the first to take a shot. The laser pierced through the floater's shoulder, sending the defiant alien's return fire wildly off target. Volatile followed up, letting out a sharp yell of victory as the enemy howled in agony, slumping down to the ground.

Finishing her reload, Cell hurried over to Ratamacue and knelt next to Gamage. "She gonna be okay?" she asked as the Italian straightened her back. The woman smiled at her and nodded her response. "Good work, Gamage", Cell complimented her trooper, slapping a hand on her shoulder. Standing up, she saw the rest of her squad join them back on the ridge of the long hill. Leading her squad forwards, they got ready to breach the UFO and its pilot.

Cell led her people to the end of the hillside, weapons trained towards the streams on both sides, looking for more contact. Not hearing anything, she led the squad onto the roof of the UFO from the end of the hill. The squad spread out to the four corners of the UFO as Volatile and Jive jumped down on the door-side.

"Go, go, go!" Cell yelled, and the operatives jumped down around the UFO, breaching in SWAT-style. The outsider materialized into its humanoid form from the crystal perched on the main flight computer, and it dashed towards one of the exits. Cell tried to bring her autolaser on target, but the weapon was too heavy to react so quickly. Laser fire filled the air inside the alien craft as the outsider tried to make its retreat. A beam from Jive punched through the alien as it made its way out of the UFO. "Don't let it get away!" Cell cried, dashing after the enemy.

The outsider bolted out of the UFO through one of the corner doorways. A wild war-cry filled the air as Pavehawk jumped down from the roof of the UFO and onto the alien, pinning it to the bed of the stream with a huge splash. The laser rifle in the rookie's hands flared up and the dust from the alien pilot spread out into the water, drifting away lazily as its remnants glimmered in the afternoon sunlight.

Cell brought a hand up to her earpiece as she called Big Sky, "Area clear, we have one trooper down, repeat, one trooper in critical condition. Move your ass and get the paramedics over here, Tectonic out." Turning to the rest of the squad, she relayed her orders.

"Gamage and Doubleumc, get back to Rata right now! Make sure she's okay and lead the paramedics to her. Jive and Volatile, secure the craft. Pavehawk, you're coming with me to the LZ." The woman paused for a moment before following up, "Great job everyone, you did me proud."

The troopers followed her orders, Pavehawk getting up from the stream. The woman was absolutely soaked but she wore a wicked grin on her lips, baring some of her teeth. Volatile turned to give Jive a slap on the back and the South African responded in kind, the dark-skinned women ready to secure the perimeter. Gamage and Doubleumc were off towards their wounded comrade, the medic's mouth already in motion mere seconds after the end of contact.

Cell smiled slightly as Pavehawk joined her inside the UFO. _Some of them might be a bit green, but they'll be great operatives. Every one of them,_ she thought to herself as she turned towards the stream and the Skyranger LZ, ready to wrap up the operation.


	39. Chapter 38: The Kill Switch

Chapter 38: The Kill Switch

Kilroy walked down the crowded afternoon streets of Sydney. The early July sun was scorching hot as the covert operative scanned the streets through her dark shades. XCOM had been fighting an intelligence war against the global terrorist organization EXALT for a little over one and a half months now and had engaged their troops on the field in three separate occasions during covert operations with the goal of eliminating their cells and gaining new intelligence on the elusive organization. However, the data XCOM had acquired had only been drops in a vast ocean as they struggled to understand the organization's infrastructure, as well as the true motives behind their actions.

This was the big one. The operation to gain ground on their enemy from within. The Council's agency in Australia had been contacted by an identity calling himself Deep Throat. He had demanded direct contact with XCOM's intelligence teams and after serious consideration and safety measures, the commander of Earth's finest had agreed. Deep Throat was an operative high up in EXALT's hierarchy and he had offered to provide information on EXALT's activities where possible. The man claimed he had become disillusioned with his organization's actions and was willing to contribute to their downfall. Without drawing any unnecessary attention and danger to his own person, that is.

Kilroy shook her head as she pushed past a crowd of people gathered at a marketplace. She didn't like the idea of relying on their informant. She didn't trust him, and felt there must have been some ulterior motives the man wasn't sharing with them. But his intel had proven useful over the past two weeks, and The Council and XCOM had decided it was time to make their move.

_This guy has been watching too much X-files,_ Kilroy thought to herself as she made her way towards the abandoned warehouse at the edge of the neighborhood. They had finally managed to convince Deep Throat into a personal meeting. The purpose of the meeting was the transfer of sensitive physical data. Or at least that's what the EXALT operative had been led to believe. The real goal for XCOM and The Council was to seize their informant and interrogate him. They would hopefully be able to coerce him into being a true double-agent within the organization; if that proved to be doubtful, they would extract whatever information the man wasn't willing to part with otherwise and be done with him. The scraps he had been offering them were useful, but there was potential for something so much more.

"_How are you enjoying your walk in the sun, Sheriff?" _a voice came through on Kilroy's earpiece. It was the voice of an agent from her support squad, code name Dealer. He was sitting in a car some distance from the meeting place, and would be the one giving Kilroy and Deep Throat their ride home.

Kilroy furrowed her brow under her shades. She didn't like the carefree tone of her partner. This operation had the potential to give them the upper hand over EXALT without them ever knowing it. "Just focus on the op. Don't contact me for nothing", she casually spoke into the crowd. No one paid her any attention. She had become truly comfortable wearing the shoes of a covert agent. It seemed so bizarre; back in her time with FBI's HRT, they had always joked about the agents and their wild goose chases. She smiled slightly as she wondered what the people of her old outfit would think of her now.

Kilroy crossed the remaining blocks separating the meeting place from the market as she arrived at the abandoned warehouse. A massive sign across the front signaled the building was destined for deconstruction as Kilroy strolled around to the back. There were no civilians present in the area, as expected. Deep Throat had of course demanded only one person come to the meeting from XCOM's side. They had complied; to some extent. Dealer and another car driver were located on either adjacent block, and a small emergency combat squad was in position inside the apartment building facing the warehouse. They were almost certain Deep Throat didn't have any accomplices inside EXALT who could have come to his aid, but it was deemed wiser to try and win the man's trust by giving the illusion they had respected his wishes. No need to display excessive force.

Kilroy pushed open the green sheet metal door and stepped into the warehouse. Her laser pistol was tugged into a concealed holster at the small of her back, under the waistband of her jeans. She lifted her shades and perched them into her hair as she glanced around the large hangar-like hall. Catwalks ran along the edges of the grey walls and old shipping containers of all colors littered the floor. Making her way into the middle of the hall, she began to wonder whether this contact of theirs had bailed out on her.

"Good day to you, agent Scully", a voice spoke from in front of her. Kilroy came to a halt as a handsome man wearing a dapper white shirt blouse and khaki pants stepped out from behind a blue shipping container. The man's brown hair was slicked back and he wore a smug grin on his face. A bag was slung over his shoulder as he raised a hand in greeting.

Kilroy lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at the greeting. _He really HAS been watching too much X-files_, she thought to herself, but to the man she responded, "Good to see you showed up after all, Deep Throat. Do you have the goods?"

The EXALT operative let out a chuckle as he swung the bag from his shoulder and offered it up for Kilroy. "Straight into business, I see. Yet another difference between our two organizations, I assure you an exchange like this would take platitude after platitude and secrets upon secrets in mine."

Kilroy reached over and grabbed the bag. She unzipped the container and regarded the stack of paper files and the flash drive inside. Zipping it back up, she slung the bag across her chest and turned her eyes to regard the man in front of her. _Tread carefully,_ she thought to herself as she prepared to confront the man.

"So, are we done here Sheriff? Or would you like to chat me up now that you finally got your face-to-face meeting?" the man spoke in a carefree tone, but the way he was glancing up at the catwalks betrayed his nervousness. Was he expecting XCOM operatives to jump down around them? Or was he expecting EXALT to have discovered his betrayal? Or had he been playing them all along, wondering why his backup was taking so long to capture Kilroy?

"How about we have a chat somewhere a bit more pleasant? This setting is quite dull and… unkempt for a finely dressed fellow like you", Kilroy spoke up, keeping an intent eye on the EXALT operative's face.

The man furrowed his brow as he looked back at Kilroy, "What do you mean?"

Kilroy drew in a deep breath. "You claim you want to bring down EXALT, Deep Throat. All of this data you have given us is useful, but it's practically nothing in the grand scheme of things. Let me help you help us. Come with me and we'll make you an XCOM operative. A real double-agent." Having spoken her proposal, Kilroy braced herself for the reaction.

The man's eyes widened as he stared at Kilroy. Glancing around once more, the paranoia was apparent in his eyes. "No way, man. You have people here? I knew it. Fuck that, I'm not coming with you. I'm not gonna die for this!"

The reaction caught Kilroy off-guard. She had expected a calm and collected response from the man, or possibly an angry one. Not once during their contact with Deep Throat had he shown any inclination to anything but professionalism, but the growing panic in his movements and his rising voice were definitely far from professional.

"Hey, we can talk this through-", Kilroy's attempts to calm the man were cut off as he wheeled around and took off in a heated run. Cursing under her breath, Kilroy sprinted after the man.

Deep Throat was fast and had a head start on her, but Kilroy steadily gained ground on him as she chased him through the corridors created by the stacked shipping containers. Their footsteps echoed eerily inside the large hangar as the man weaved his way through the landscape with ease. _He must have planned the route,_ Kilroy thought as she pushed her legs harder, his back drawing ever closer now.

The man took a hard left, and Kilroy bolted after him. Taking the turn, she yelled out loud as the heavy door of a shipping container swung towards her. Crashing into the thick metal, a jolt of pain ran through her body as she was brought to a dead-stop, the shades in her hair flying off and clattering to the floor. Falling flat on her ass, Kilroy cursed as she saw Deep Throat disappear between the containers ahead of her. Struggling back to her feet she took after the man once again.

His footsteps echoed around her as Kilroy struggled to get her bearings. She had lost sight of the EXALT operative and she couldn't see the walls of the hangar from her position. Shipping containers stacked up to five crates high surrounded her as she glanced helplessly in all directions. "Tell me you're reacting, jackass. Intercept this asshole, I've lost sight of him", she hissed into the mic hidden inside her T-shirt. Not waiting for an answer, she took off in the direction she thought the footsteps were coming from, although the echo made it impossible to tell for certain.

Kilroy ran along the valley created by the shipping containers and finally after a couple of turns, she saw the gray wall of the hangar some distance ahead of her. She heard a door open and slam shut somewhere to her left, and she sprinted for the door in front of her. Crashing out into the daylight, Kilroy glanced around her surroundings.

She was on the side of the long warehouse, cracked asphalt under her feet. To her right an old forklift rested against a stack of pallets, and to her left the main street ran across the front of the building. She could see Deep Throat crossing the street in full sprint, headed towards where she had come into the area from, and Kilroy pushed her head down as she started after the man once again. _I'm gonna make you fucking pay for this, you asshole._

The EXALT operative was keenly aware of the woman giving him chase, and of her superior speed. As Kilroy crossed the street and was steadily gaining ground on him, the man didn't turn into one of the alleyways as she had expected. Instead, he kept on running along the main street and towards the direction of the crowded market. _Oh great, just what I need. My face on the cover of The Sydney Morning Herald,_ a dry thought crossed Kilroy's mind as she kept her breathing going hard, the oxygen pumping into her body as she pushed on. She was in excellent condition and the man would lose out sooner or later. Hopefully sooner.

People started to populate the streets as she chased down the EXALT operative. They were giving the two of them puzzled looks and Kilroy even heard a yelled inquiry as to what was going on. It was only one more block to the market, and the stream of people on the streets was getting thicker and thicker. She cursed silently as the man turned left, headed straight for the marketplace.

Kilroy burst out into the square, tall buildings rising all around the large open area filled with people and stands. Deep Throat was pushing his way through the crowd, drawing surprised yells and exclamations of indignation from the people around him. Kilroy followed, roughly shoving away the people in front of her. "Get the hell outta my way!" she yelled as a group of college students were staring after the EXALT operative, whispering to each other. They turned around to look at Kilroy in disbelief. Tackling her way through them, Kilroy toppled one of the girls over as she kept her pace up, drawing angry yells from the people behind her. _Can't slow down. Can't lose him or it's over._

Deep Throat burst his way through a stand selling fruit and Kilroy cursed as apples, oranges and watermelons came flying at her feet. She stumbled her way through the devastation, almost slipping on the wet tiling. The owner of the stand was crying out in disbelief and Kilroy gritted her teeth as she pushed over yet another bystander who was dumb enough to not step aside. Even with his delaying tactics, Kilroy was steadily gaining on the EXALT operative. The market around them was positively bustling as people from further away were starting to be drawn towards the commotion, the air filled with shouts of curiosity, indignation and anger.

Kilroy was mere fifteen meters from the man as he diverted off to the left once again, heading towards an alley leading away from the market. The man rounded the corner and Kilroy followed. The crowd was behind them now, with only a few curious people looking on close-by at the woman giving chase to the dapper fellow. Turning into the alley, Kilroy's heart jumped with excitement. It was a dead end.

Deep Throat was desperately scaling the chain-link fence at the end of the short alley. Kilroy sprung up to the man and grabbed onto his shirt's back. Jerking hard, she heard the material rip as the man's grip came loose, crashing him into the asphalt below. His head banged hard against the ground and a glazed look appeared into his eyes.

Kilroy looked up towards the mouth of the alleyway and spoke into her mic with urgency, "Goddammit Dealer, where are you. I need extraction right the fuck now or a crowd of very curious Aussies is gonna put an end to this operation."

As if on cue, a black car with tinted windows came to a screeching halt across the alleyway. Kilroy grabbed Deep Throat by the front of his shirt and pulled him up. The man was swaying and clearly disoriented, but at least he was on his feet. He mumbled frantic denials as Kilroy dragged him towards the car. Pulling open the back door, she tossed the man into the seats and jumped inside, pulling the door shut behind her.

Dealer glanced at her through the rear-view mirror as he took off, tires screeching. The crowd from the market had been pulling towards their location but as the car accelerated and wheeled around, the people stumbled away from the vehicle. Taking off into the streets, the agent opened his mouth, "Goddamn, Sheriff. Couldn't find a more public place to pull this off?"

Kilroy stared daggers at the man, catching her breath. She shook her head as she bit back the bitter comebacks that came to mind. _He's right. I shouldn't have let him get away. He caught me off-guard._ Instead of bickering with her partner, she turned towards the man slumped across the backseats.

Reaching over, she slapped the man on his cheek. "Hey, wake up asshole! That's right, you. Wake up, douchebag!" she yelled, slapping and pinching at his face ever harder. The man shook his head as his eyes started to focus. Kilroy stopped her assault on him and the man struggled to a sitting position, running both hands over his face.

"No, no, no, no, no…" a low denial rose from behind his hands. The man lowered his arms and looked at Kilroy with distraught eyes. "They're gonna kill me, man. Why did you have to kill me, I was helping. No, no, I don't wanna die." His tone was frantic and his breathing was getting quicker as his own words seemed to be fueling the growing panic inside of him.

Kilroy slapped the man, speaking in a low growl, "Shut up! Pull yourself together, they're not going to get to you. As long as you take this easy and cool, we're gonna make this work, okay?" Even as she spoke the encouraging words, she knew there was no way the man would be made into a double-agent anymore. They would extract whatever info they could from him and that would be that. Kilroy hoped he wouldn't be killed after they were done with him, tossed away like a cheap toy once it had served its purpose. But quite frankly, that was none of her concern. Her job had been to get the man to their people alive, and she had done that. Well, would soon have done that.

The man cowered into the corner of the seat, covering his head with his hands. He was absolutely terrified as his eyes stared off into the distance. "You don't get it, man. The switch. They're gonna flip the switch."

A chill ran down Kilroy's spine at the ominous words. She glanced at the rear-view mirror to find Dealer giving her a surprised look. "Switch? What switch?" Kilroy spoke the question, even as a growing suspicion sneaked its way into her mind.

The EXALT operative hung his head down, grasping at his temples. "The kill switch. They're gonna kill me when I don't return, man."

The man's words hit Kilroy hard. Looking at Dealer in the rear-view mirror and then back at the man, she spoke the words even as she absolutely knew the man was telling the truth, "You've gotta be fucking shitting me."

* * *

><p>Kilroy was staring through the tall windows into the crimson Sydney evening. Sun was setting down over the city as Deep Throat was being operated on in the bedroom. Dealer was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, deep in thought. Kilroy took off once again, pacing around the room. They had worked so hard to get him to come out; it couldn't end like this.<p>

The kill switch implanted inside the EXALT operatives was a complex piece of technology. Deep Throat had told them about it after his panic had turned into quiet despair. The EXALT surgeons implanted the device created using MELD into the hearts of important members of their organization. The device doubled for monitoring the vitals of the subject as well as ending the vitals of the subject. With the flip of a switch, the people at the top of EXALT could cause multi-system failure within its own members.

_What kind of a sick fuck does that to their own people,_ Kilroy thought once again, the absolute lack of morality within EXALT still shaking and disgusting her. Deep Throat had told them no one knew how many of the people within EXALT had these switches installed. They were forbidden to discuss the issue with each other, and he hadn't had access to the data. Everyone was expected to serve the purposes of the organization and its leaders without question. The scary part wasn't the lack of morality in implanting the kill switch. It was how many people seemed to embrace it without question.

It had been the installment of the kill switch that had turned Deep Throat around. He knew of people who had had similar regrets as they had risen in the EXALT hierarchy. They had all been executed. The man had taken a massive risk in seeking out XCOM, and he was about to pay the price for it. Kilroy wiped a hand across her face as the wait seemed to stretch on forever. The surgeon had disappeared into the bedroom to work on Deep Throat a mere half an hour ago and the operation was expected to last hours, yet it felt like it already had.

_I wonder if the man in Tucson had one of these switches. Would explain why they were spooked when I killed him,_ Kilroy thought to herself as she tried to distract herself from what was going on in the room next to her. She doubted your normal field operatives would have such expensive surgery done on them, but who can tell? They would have to be careful about killing enemy operatives on the field now if there was a chance it could blow their cover instantly.

The door to the bedroom swung open and Kilroy wheeled around. The sound of the flatline from the EKG filled the air as the surgeon stepped out, pulling his long, bloodied latex gloves off and tossing them onto the floor. His plastic apron was soiled with blood and his bearded face was emotionless but for the eyes. They were hard and cold and full of anger as he regarded Kilroy.

The surgeon pointed a finger at Kilroy as he opened his mouth, the tone of his voice betraying the fury inside, "You drag me here without a moment's notice and expect me to pull off this crazy shit in the fucking bedroom of a goddamn apartment building? I wash my hands of this. His blood is on your hands." The man untied the apron and slung it down to the floor in a display of anger, rushing out into the balcony while digging a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

Kilroy closed her eyes and clenched her fists, the nails digging into her palms. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself as the mess of emotions rushed about inside of her. Opening her eyes, she saw the surgeon's assistant pull a sheet over the deceased operative as she moved about the bedroom, cleaning up after the failed operation.

Dealer walked up to her, speaking up in a vain attempt to console her, "Hey, at least we still have the data he gave us, right? It's better than nothing."

Kilroy gave the man a poisonous stare, wanting to grab him by the shoulders and shake him hard. It was indeed something, but it was small fry. Biting back the desire to scream her frustration at the man, Kilroy instead turned towards the balcony. She hadn't smoked since their R&R in Nagoya, but the urgency at which her mind was screaming for nicotine couldn't be ignored right now. The surgeon would share with her, whether he liked it or not.

Without a word, Kilroy left Dealer standing in the middle of the room as she pushed out into the beautiful sunset. Her mind was boiling with hatred and disgust for EXALT, with disappointment and frustration at herself, and with pity and sympathy for the man she had known as Deep Throat.


	40. Chapter 39: The News

Chapter 39: The News

"Oh yeah, sure. It must have been SO hard hitting those flanks up on that billboard. We could've literally replaced you with my mother!" DSM's friendly gibes filled the air at the operatives' break room as she goaded Iku on. The sniper and scout were sitting at the end of the counter as Renzol, Instinct and Wootastic rounded off the squad that had returned from their operation in Chicago.

Iku shook his head indignantly as he took a sip from his cider. The scout was always laying it on him thick, even when he had done better than her on the operation. Laying his pint down, Iku responded with a scowl, "Why are you this lively again? Go back to your sulking."

The scout responded with a cackle of a laugh and a big swig of her beer. She always enjoyed drawing a reaction out of Iku, although she didn't really know why it was so satisfying to push his buttons. Maybe it had something to do with the man's gloomy attitude that Daishi had said was similar to DSM's.

Behind the counter, Orgun was spinning two bottles filled with water through the air as he practiced his juggling skills. The Irishman was the self-proclaimed bartender of XCOM and he seemed to be spending more time practicing his skills with a bottle than with a rocket these days. Flipping the bottles over himself one after the other, he caught them behind his back as he kept the circle going. Instinct, Wootastic and Renzol were following the man's actions with baited breath and as he slammed the bottles on the counter after the tenth successful round, his display was rewarded with applause and laughter.

"Ten rounds, baby! I guess it's three bottles next. Oh boy." An apprehensive look appeared on Orgun's face as he uttered the last words, drawing smiles from the people facing him. There was just something about his merry spirits and good-natured banter that made smiling the immediate response to anything he did.

DSM sneered at the man. "You better put those bottles down boy and get back to school. Renzol here is leaving your ass in the dust, she's getting promoted to tech sergeant!" The drinks were loosening her up quite a bit, and she found herself surprised by the ease at which the banter left her lips. She wasn't really known for socializing within the outfit with others than Daishi, whom she'd become good friends with despite their vastly different personalities.

Orgun lifted a surprised eyebrow at the comment, turning to Renzol. "That true? Damn, congrats Renzol! I guess I'll be taking extra lessons from you now, huh?" the rocketeer spoke his genuine congratulations, drawing a smile and the slightest of blushes from Renzol.

The small rocketeer almost looked like she was going to modestly play down the achievement. But instead, she nodded in acknowledgment and smiled at her peer, "Thanks. You know where to find me if you need me." Orgun responded with a hearty laugh as Renzol took a sip of her cider.

Instinct leaned against the counter at the end of the line. The Nigerian assault was a real hunk of meat like his friend Wolfer, but in such a strikingly different way. Where Wolfer was tall, massive and white, Instinct was short, broad and black. Where Wolfer was aggressive and offensive in his fighting style, Instinct was deliberate and defensive. "Are we gonna take those drinks for Merlin and Medve or not?" the assault raised his deep bass voice.

Wootastic flung her arms in the air and let out a loud cheer, the brunette German always ready to party. The rest of the operatives responded with nods and Orgun turned towards the liquor shelf, asking over his shoulder, "Let me guess their poison… tequila for Merlin and bourbon for Medve?" Receiving nods of agreement from the counter, the man started pouring the drinks.

The two of them had received light wounds during the operation and had gone straight into the medbay to start with their treatment. The war with the aliens had heated up during the summer and with EXALT added into the mix, XCOM needed all of its troopers in top condition. It was no time to skip treatment in order to get a few post-op drinks in.

Orgun slammed down the shot and whiskey glasses in front of the operatives and started pouring, both bottles in one hand. As he got to Renzol, the woman covered the glasses with her hand. "I'm good", she muttered, drawing a curiously raised eyebrow from Orgun. "I have business to take care of", Renzol followed up, letting out a small giggle as Orgun turned his mugging up a notch before moving on to the next set of glasses on the counter.

Wootastic leaned in closer to Renzol, her face drawn into an exaggerated pout. "Oh come on Salty! How can you do that to Merlin and Medve? They'll be sad without their drinks", she pleaded in a whining voice. Renzol glanced at the carefree young engineer with a smile. She didn't really know Wootastic, but she seemed so naive and young it made Renzol feel like an old crone, even though they were both in their mid-twenties.

With everyone having their drinks in front of them, Instinct led them in a toast. First the tequila for Merlin's health, followed by the bourbon for Medve's. Renzol toasted with her cider, draining the pint and excusing herself from the company.

The post-op drinks stretched on as the roommates Wootastic and Instinct were humored by Orgun while DSM continued her bickering with Iku, the alcohol spurring them on.

* * *

><p>Wolfer found himself sitting in the computer room once again, like so many nights before. It was a small space next to the TV room and contained six computers on which the operatives could play simple games and browse the internet. Internet access was heavily restricted for security reasons, but Wolfer could reach the site he was looking for just fine.<p>

The room was empty but for the big assault, and he took in a shaky breath. He was staring at The Detroit News website, cursor hovering over the search bar. He was constantly back-and-forth on the issue. I have to know. I don't want to know. I have to know but I don't have the courage to. Like so many nights before, it seemed like there would be no conclusion tonight.

The first time he had come here he had punched in the easy search words. With a satisfied smile, he had read about the massacre in the suburbs of Detroit where a gang of Neo-Nazis had been wiped out by what the news had called "territorial gang wars". Wolfer knew better. It seemed EXALT hadn't taken too kindly to Lamont's inability to keep their operation hidden and safe.

The second search words were much, much harder. Wolfer still found himself struggling to find sleep on some nights when the image of the young black man lying on the asphalt rose to mind. He had to know; but once he did, there was no turning back. For better or for worse.

Clicking the search field, Wolfer placed his fingers on the keyboard. A cold sweat rose to his forehead as a sickening feeling of anticipation rose in the pit of his stomach. _Just get it over with. No more. I can't deal with this shit anymore._ Punching in the words, he hit enter and looked on apprehensively as the site loaded.

Wolfer had to scroll back quite a bit before the dates of the news matched. He held his breath as more stories loaded in: this was good. No news was good, it meant it hadn't broken the threshold. Then the headline struck him hard, like a wet sandbag slung straight against his abdomen.

_Another young African-American man found beaten to death as hate-crimes continue to spiral out of control in Detroit._ Wolfer closed his eyes, sitting still for a moment. After five or so deep breaths, he opened his eyes and clicked the link. The date and location matched, there was no doubt about it. _Me. That was me. I did that._ He felt sick right down to his guts, the uncertainty of not knowing gone and replaced with the guilt and disgust of knowing.

The door to the computer room creaked as it opened and Wolfer's heart jumped in his chest. Scrambling for the mouse, he struggled to close the browser like a ten-year-old caught masturbating on his parent's computer. A clearly buzzed Instinct let out a bellow of a laugh as he strode up to the man, leaning in to peek at the monitor, now only displaying the desktop.

"What you looking at there, Wolfer old buddy? Porn?" the man inquired with an amused voice. Wolfer responded with a shake of his head and a muttered denial, his heart beating fast in his chest and adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Instinct turned from the monitor to survey Wolfer's face, surprised by the meek response. Lifting an eyebrow the Nigerian assault smirked at his friend, "Gay porn?"

Already on the edge, the intoxicated man's jokes didn't exactly go over well with Wolfer. Pushing himself up from the desk, the big man stared angrily at Instinct, the temper in his voice concealing the distress below, "Did you have something you wanted, Instinct? Or are you here just to piss me off?"

Instinct straightened his back and regarded Wolfer with wary eyes. "Poker. You play it, jackass?"

Shaking his head, Wolfer pushed past his friend and muttered his refusal. He needed time alone, and he certainly couldn't deal with Instinct right now. How would he react if he knew? How would anyone react? He needed to clear his head.

And so he left his friend standing in the computer room, baffled at the moody reaction. Wolfer headed for the martial arts room, ready to beat the entirety of the outfit's punching bags into submission if that's what it took to clear his mind and rid himself of the feelings wallowing inside of him.


	41. Chapter 40: Two of a kind

Chapter 40: Two of a kind

Cell was sitting on a tree stump, smoke drifting lazily upwards from her cigar. The landed Raider-class UFO was lying on the edge of the forest, the goods from inside being ferried over by the Council's engineering team. The gunner looked on as they loaded up the wreck of the weird, disc-shaped alien robot into one of the cargo aircraft that resembled the Skyranger in design, albeit much slower and designed for the transfer of alien artifacts rather than troops.

Renzol was kneeling next to Cell, cleaning her rocket launcher. The rocketeer had done an amazing job with the mechanized pods of aliens, wiping out drones and seekers en masse. As the gunner and rocketeer on the operation, they had formed the anti-mech part of the squad. Cell enjoyed working with the quiet and withdrawn woman. She never felt like the silence between them was awkward. Rather, it seemed to have an air of professionalism to it.

Taking a puff from her cigar she sampled the smooth, vanilla-flavored smoke in her mouth before letting it out in small circles. There was nothing quite like the quiet moments of down-time after a successful operation. Those had always been her favorites in the Foreign Legion as well; the harsh training and even harsher battles making those small moments of peace worth it. Cell smiled quietly to herself as her softer side manifested itself in those thoughts. She was known as a hard-ass around the outfit, but like with anyone else, that was only the tip of the iceberg.

She regarded Renzol with thoughtful eyes as the rocketeer worked on her launcher. There was another person who was hiding something beneath the surface. Everyone in the outfit knew of Renzol's change, except for some of the newer recruits. Cell wondered whether the woman had truly changed, or if she was just hiding it all somewhere deep inside. Maybe that was one of the reasons she felt so comfortable with the rocketeer lately; they were similar yet in completely opposite ways.

Renzol had been lost and without confidence when the conflict had begun. If her outward appearance and actions were to be believed, she was now the best and brightest of XCOM's operatives, full of confidence and demanding of both herself and her fellow operatives.

Cell on the other hand had been a certified grade-A badass since day one. Yet with the fall of South Africa, an insecurity long since buried had awoken deep inside of her. It was slowly consuming her from within, and the woman wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it a secret. Maybe she shouldn't keep it a secret? Maybe confiding in someone was exactly what she needed to do to move on. But seven years alone and abroad, living your life amongst a harsh military outfit doesn't necessarily breed that type of mindset on you. Cell had learned to deal with things by herself, and she intended to keep it that way.

_We're not so different, you and I Renzol. And yet, we're still completely different,_ Cell mused to herself, slowly puffing away on her cigar. A familiar shout from the direction of the UFO pulled her away from her thoughts. Scubaman was signaling for the two of them to get going; the operation had been wrapped up, and it was time to head back to the Skyranger.

Picking up her autolaser, Cell swung the weapon on her back. "Come on, Renzol. Let's go." The words weren't really required as the rocketeer was already getting up to her feet, slipping the rocket launcher onto her back. Yet speaking her name seemed oddly appropriate to Cell. Renzol smiled at her and nodded her approval as they took off towards the squad, the rest of the operatives now emerging from the interior of the UFO.

Walking side by side, the difference between them was striking. Cell stood a head above the small rocketeer, her hair raven dark compared to the blonde strands peeking from under Renzol's beret. Turning to the rocketeer, Cell spoke before she gave the idea any particular thought, "Renzol? Are you training tonight?"

The small woman turned her head, looking up at Cell. A distant look appeared into her eyes as she considered her answer. "I was going to hit the gym before it gets too late", she finally answered, an inquisitive look in her eyes speaking the follow up: _why so?_

"Mind if I join you?" The question leaving her lips surprised even Cell herself. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly seeking Renzol out. It wasn't like she didn't have friends amongst the outfit, quite the opposite. She came along great with everyone in her room, including the infuriating duo of Orgun and Scubaman. She always had a blast with Medve, Hypergeek, Van Doorn and the visiting guests of their whiskey and cigar club.

And despite all that company, she felt lonely and lost. The old photograph hidden within her small wooden chest had awoken those feelings inside her. Even as she wanted to deny it, she knew it to be true. She wasn't consciously looking for Renzol's company, yet something had driven her to. Maybe it was the kindred spirit she felt within the small German. Maybe it was her subconscious telling her to deal with the emotions within.

As she heard her name called again, Cell came to from her thoughts. Flustered, she turned to Renzol and muttered an apology, asking the woman to repeat herself.

Renzol gave her a doubtful look, but her blue eyes were glimmering with amusement. "Sure, I could use a spotter. I need to improve on my bench press", she repeated and Cell muttered her acknowledgment and a thank you in response.

Joining the rest of the squad, Cell shook the heavy thoughts from her mind. She tried to keep from thinking about the photograph as much as she could. It was bad enough it regularly made its presence known uninvited; she didn't need to be thinking about it consciously.

The smirk on Scubaman's lips drew her own up to a smile. Slamming a hand on the officer's shoulder, Cell inquired what shenanigans he had been up to inside the UFO. The legendary misuse of his officer's privileges in setting up Squint's and Kamikaze's "Recovery Day dinner" had become a favorite story within the outfit, and the lieutenant had escaped any disciplinary actions simply due to the good-will of the act and the positive effects it had had on morale according to the commander.

Chatting away happily, the soldiers made their way over to the Skyranger and back towards the headquarters of XCOM, the heavy feelings banished from Cell's mind for now.


	42. Chapter 41: The Helmet

Chapter 41: The Helmet

Squint rested her head against Kamikaze's shoulder as they lay down in the man's bunk, his arm wrapped around her. The room was empty but for Volatile and Iku at the other end, both focused on their novels. Squint watched Kamikaze's chest rise and fall with his steady breathing as they relaxed together, the day's arduous training done and dusted with.

Closing her eyes, Squint smiled as she snuggled more comfortably against Kamikaze. Laying a hand on his chest, she traced gentle lines along his muscles, the feeling of another body so close to hers igniting all sorts of feelings inside: passion, comfort, safety, contentment. The fingers gently petting her arm ceased their work, and Squint let out a disgruntled noise. Not getting the desired reaction, she fidgeted around a little, a low complaint leaving her lips, "Brushie! Brushie-brush brush!"

Kamikaze let out a small chuckle and resumed his caresses. Pleased with the outcome, Squint let out a low purr-turned-giggle as she buried herself deeper against the man. She hoped they could stay like this forever; that the call of duty would never come.

They had been rehabilitated and on training for over a week now, and had been put back on rotation tonight. Their next mission would undoubtedly come sooner rather than later, but at least Squint could comfort herself in knowing Kamikaze would be there with her. With her thoughts having turned towards the real world once again, Squint's mood dropped down a notch. Stirring against Kamikaze, she struggled up to her elbows and propped her chin and arms against the man's chest.

Kamikaze craned his neck up from the pillow as he felt Squint stir. Their eyes meeting, Squint finally spoke up after the quiet and blissful rest, "Are you eager to get back out there?" She surveyed Kamikaze's expression as the man crossed his arms behind his head, resting back down against the pillow.

"Yeah. I've been on the sidelines for way too long. I was there at Nagoya on day one, with Drake, Medve and everyone else. It's high time I started catching up." The man smiled slightly as he spoke, his eyes distant as he thought back to the operations and work he had done within the outfit. Turning back to Squint, his expression softened as he considered the woman, _his_ woman, staring at him. "Are you worried?" A raised hand followed the question, gently caressing Squint's back.

Laying her cheek against Kamikaze's chest, Squint closed her eyes and enjoyed the tingling sensation on her skin. Letting out a deep sigh she responded, her heart a little heavier as she shed light on the feelings once again, "I guess so. I mean, I'm not really afraid. Just anxious, you know? Like having to wait and not knowing when it'll happen… I can't really explain it." Opening her eyes, she looked Kamikaze in the eye. "I just kinda hope it already happened. Get it over with, like ripping a band-aid."

Kamikaze smiled compassionately, rolling over to his side and pulling the woman closer. His arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace and Squint giggled as she pressed herself closer to his body, letting his proximity wash away the anxiousness. He was shower-fresh and she could smell the faint scent of his soap and the detergent used to wash his military T-shirt. Closing her eyes, she let herself enjoy the moment and forget about the world once again.

After a while, Kamikaze spoke up, breaking the far-too short embrace even though it must have lasted a good five minutes, "Come on, Squint. I want to give you something." The man got up to a sitting position, leaving Squint slumping into the warm and now empty blankets. Rolling over in the aftermath of the cuddles, she let out a yawn as she stretched her slender body. Kamikaze smiled at her as he got up, walking over to his closet.

"What is it?" Squint inquired, peering over at the man from the bed. Kamikaze gave her an amused look and shook his head, gesturing for her to come over. With another satisfied stretch, Squint got up and sauntered over, brushing up her disheveled hair.

Kamikaze leaned into the closet, keeping the door half-closed so she couldn't see inside. Squint followed with curiosity while glancing towards the back of the room. Iku and Volatile had looked up from their novels, following the couple with mild interest.

"Close your eyes", came the order from Kamikaze, and Squint complied. Standing straight, she smiled in anticipation. Pulling back from the closet, Kamikaze lifted his worn and battered kevlar helmet, placing the piece of armor on Squint's small head. The helmet tilted, falling forwards to cover her eyes.

Squint let out a small, high-pitched yelp as she brought up her hands to steady the helmet. Kamikaze laughed heartily at the sight: light brown hair streaming from under the rim of the oversized helmet, the hat concealing all but the tip of her nose and her red, enticing lips.

"It suits you. You look cute in it", he uttered, leaning in and stealing a kiss from her lips. Squint flushed bright red under the helmet, finally lifting the rim so she could see. She regarded Kamikaze with embarrassed, menacing and playful eyes. She knew Volatile and Iku were grinning as they watched the scene, and she would have to get even later.

Breaking into a full-blown smile at the grinning man in front of her, Squint turned her attention up to the helmet. She wheeled it from side to side, raising her voice in a question, "You're giving me your helmet? Why?"

"That's my lucky helmet", Kamikaze replied, his smile ever-widening as he took in the sight of Squint's adorable features under the bruised and battered piece of combat gear.

Squint gave him a sideways look, her voice carrying a glimmer of humor as she doubted the man's words, "Lucky? You? Mister big man whom they named FUBAR?"

Kamikaze shook his head as he chuckled at her response. "I'm standing right here in front of you, aren't I?" Reaching for her hands, he helped Squint remove the helmet from her head and bring it between them. Guiding her fingers over the torn and burnt camo cover stretched over the kevlar, he recounted the stories.

"Plasma burn from a floater's carbine in Brazil. This one was from a seeker, on our mission." Bringing her fingers over to a large rip in the cloth, he smiled as their fingers traced over the patched-up kevlar, the rough surface still showing the outlines of the gaping hole that used to be there. "Shrapnel from Orgun's rocket. I still have the piece in my closet."

Squint followed his lead solemnly, lifting her chin to face him as he finished with the story. "That's really something, Kamikaze. Thank you. But it's still too big." To demonstrate the fact, she plopped the helmet back on her head and laughed as it slid over her eyes. Kamikaze lifted the rim with a finger, smiling at her as she emerged from under the helmet.

"We can adjust the straps. It'll be fine. Unless you don't want it?" His last words drew a furious shake of her head from Squint, causing the helmet to wobble uncontrollably on her, drawing laughs from the couple. Volatile and Iku joined them and Squint stuck her tongue out at the eavesdroppers, only spurring them on as they spectated the scene from their bunks.

Turning back to look at Kamikaze, Squint smiled at the man. Muttering another thank you, she wrapped her arms behind his neck and tip-toed for a kiss. As the man leaned down, Squint shot out an arm to grasp the helmet as it was about to fall off, giggling through their kiss as she held the hat onto her head with one hand whilst grasping Kamikaze with the other.


	43. Chapter 42: Ancestral Homeland

Chapter 42: Ancestral Homeland

The XCOM squad of mostly green operatives had returned to base from an operation in Edmonton. Earth's finest had successfully put a stop to the alien abduction and were enjoying their night off after the heroics of the day. Orgun was in his familiar role, slinging drinks for the rest of the operatives behind the counter while Burncycle, Gamage, Doubleumc, Jive and Morgan listened intently to the tall tales of Van Doorn.

"It's not OFFICIALLY called Doorn City, but honestly, no one remembers the other name anymore", the gunner explained in his trademark manner, on the edge of boasting but still coming off amiable and down-to-earth.

Morgan lifted an inquisitive eyebrow as she regarded the older man next to her. "Why the hell is it called Doorn City anyway?" she questioned, grabbing the refilled pint Orgun was offering her.

Van Doorn laughed silently with his eyes, surveying the people around him as he got ready to continue the fable. The man was an endless well of stories and enigmatic, quirky proverbs. "The Doorn family line stretches back to ancient times, my fellow operatives! Well, ancient times of the US anyway. We've been living in Doorn City long before our country became independent, and some people around even think we should be our own state!"

"So why are you the favorite son then?" Burncycle asked, the strange tale of the strange man having piqued his interest. Van Doorn wheeled around to smile at the man as he recounted his tale.

"It all started when I was just a little rapscallion on the streets of Doorn City. We rolled the main street on our bicycles, me and my buddies. I don't mean to brag, but I was the biggest and strongest of us all, and let me tell you sonny, the sons of Doorn City love to tussle and wrestle. Oh how we do", a reminiscent smile rose to the Doorn's lips as he stared off into the distance. Returning from his inner recollection, he kept on going.

"Mothers and fathers seemed to take a liking to me, I don't really know why. All I did was help around with menial chores, I mean that's what neighbors are for, right? As I grew older daughters and, ooh boy let me tell you, even mothers took to fancying the particular son of Doorn City before your very eyes, oh yes they did!" The man let out a bellowing laugh as he slammed his hand down on the counter, causing the other operatives to exchange glances of amusement and disbelief, left with no choice but to join the charismatic man in his laughter.

"I may have wooed a sally or two in my wilder years before finally settling on my one and only. As the son of Doorn City left to join the army, his legend lived on amongst his kinsmen. And that, Burncycle, is why I'm called the favorite son of Doorn City. Not a name I took for myself, but one that I will always carry with pride", the man concluded with a smile, drawing chuckles and laughs from the other operatives and an _aaaaww_ from the gently smiling Gamage at the end of the counter.

"Favorite son of Incest City, huh? How many toes you got under those boots?" Orgun ribbed the man friendly while pouring a pint for himself. Van Doorn squinted his eyes in feigned malice at the rocketeer, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

"The Van Doorn's of Doorn City go back generation after generation, sonny. We keep good track of our blood lines and I assure you no Doorn mingles with another Doorn inappropriately!" The bizarre response had the people at the counter filling the air with laughter once again as Orgun conceded his defeat with a gracious spread of his arms.

Doubleumc scratched at the mole on the side of her nose, raising her voice in a question, "You said your one and only? I take it you have family back home in this Doorn City of yours, then?"

Van Doorn smiled at the thought, letting out a small sigh and taking a sip from his beer. "Yeah, I do. My beautiful wife and kids. Son and daughter, almost all grown up now. Though they'll always be the size of teeny fire extinguishers to me!" Turning to regard the medic, Van Doorn continued, "And no, we haven't been to our ancestral homelands in quite some time, unfortunately. They live up in DC."

Before someone else had the time to respond, Doubleumc kept on going, "Wife and two kids, huh. Well I thought I always took you for a family man, big man Doorn. Does make me wonder what they thought of your new career in the xeno-slaying business, though. Can't imagine they'd take too kindly to it. I mean, not that I'd care as a woman but you know, I'm a soldier, right?"

She barely stopped to draw breath as her mouth flapped on, but just as there was the slightest of pauses in her speech, Van Doorn stepped deftly in with his response, "Oh they understand, believe you me daughter. I've been a soldier since the days I serenaded my wife and my family knows what to expect. It's just another stint with another outfit. Except this time it's to fight the alien menace of course! How could they not love that? The Doorn family is nothing if not patriotic, and as much as we love our country, we love this Earth even more!"

The man's words drew cheers from the rest of the operatives. "Damn right old man!" Orgun yelled from behind the counter, toasting the man's impromptu speech. Van Doorn responded with a raised pint of his own as glass clinked on glass all along the counter.


	44. Chapter 43: Friendly fire

Chapter 43: Friendly fire

Awo wore a look of determination as he led the squad of XCOM operatives out of the SWAT van. The squad was wearing SWAT vests and helmets both for protection and disguise, though the laser weapons in their hands would certainly raise suspicion if spotted by the public. If it came to that the Council would deal with it, as they always did when it came to concealing XCOM's activities against EXALT.

The lieutenant led his squad across the large parking hall. Smaller teams of Council's agents and operatives in combat gear filled the gray concrete area, along with several SWAT vehicles and agents' cars. Some of the personnel looked on curiously as Renzol, Hypergeek, Wolfer, Awo, Cell, Daishi and Iku marched across the hall. At the end of the open space, special operative Kilroy was going over the plans with her second-in-command on the field, looking up with a grin and a waved hand as her comrades drew closer.

"Well I'll be damned! It's like being back on the HRT, except this time you're the Ninjas and I'm the big shot agent!" The grin reached wide and all the way up to her eyes as Kilroy regarded the people approaching her. She was wearing a tactical vest over her civilian clothes and her brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. The laser pistol was openly displayed on her hip instead of a concealed holster as she was ready to lead the charge against EXALT.

Awo chuckled as his squad reached Kilroy. Grabbing Kilroy's hand in his, the lieutenant slammed a friendly hand on her back in the briefest of embraces. "I'm gonna be honest: did not expect to be doing this again after we fired our first shots against E.T." the former police officer proclaimed, pulling away from Kilroy. Regarding the woman with approving eyes, he continued, "You look like you were born for this, Kilroy. What's the plan?"

Kilroy led the squad to a nearby car where a map was spread out over the hood. The EXALT cell in the area was holed up inside a warehouse in a nearby district and despite their best attempts, the intelligence agencies of XCOM and the Council had failed to find a way in. However, cloak and daggers wasn't the only way one can play this game, and Kilroy had had her plan for breaching and eliminating the cell approved by the paramilitary organization's high command. Going over the plan for taking the building, Kilroy briefed her fellow operatives on the task at hand.

By the end of it, Awo was nodding approvingly. "Everyone got that?" he queried, looking over his squad. Renzol nodded, her face grave as she was ready for her first engagement with the domestic threat. Hypergeek looked almost dismissive as he gestured his acknowledgment, the man a veteran of many engagements against EXALT already. Iku stared at the map with a frown, fidgeting a little with his laser sniper rifle. Muttering his understanding, the man appeared as distant as ever from the rest of the group. Cell and Daishi glanced at each other, the tall women signaling their readiness with a slap of gloved hands.

And finally, there was Wolfer. Awo almost jumped at the sight as the man stared at the map with furious eyes. The huge man was breathing heavily, almost like he was trying to restrain himself. "You okay there, Wolfer?" Awo queried in a worried tone. It seemed like the big man might jump at the car right then and there, hammering his fists through the metal of the hood.

The words of the squad leader brought Wolfer back and he glanced at Awo, most of the edge disappearing from his eyes. In an almost bashful manner, the assault muttered under his breath, "Sorry, could you go over that again?" Kilroy nodded and restarted the briefing without a hint of her usual mockery. Better to recount than have someone forget the plan and compromise the operation.

With the briefing done, Kilroy turned to the rest of the parking hall with a commanding shout, "Okay, we're on people! Everyone play your part and we'll kick these fuckers right outta Chicago!" Cheers and acknowledgments filled the hall as the operatives turned to their vehicles. Kilroy wheeled around and led her people into their designated SWAT vans while Iku left the squad, headed for the vehicle which would take him to the rooftops with the rest of the operation's snipers.

The armored vehicles took to the streets as the operation kicked off. Law enforcement forces would be closing off the roads leading into the area, hopefully minimizing civilian traffic. This was no ordinary goon stake-out: if they cut off the area too early, EXALT would no doubt be spooked. There would be absolutely no messing around with the terrorist organization; there were already sightings of EXALT-engineered laser weaponry on the field and the element of surprise would be crucial in pulling off the assault.

Renzol, Wolfer, Cell and Kilroy bumped up and down in their ride as they approached the destination. Awo would be leading the assault from the side with Hypergeek and Daishi while Kilroy would take her squad through the front doors. The Council's troops would be securing the back of the building and cutting off any EXALT operatives who might attempt to escape while Iku and the rest of the snipers covered from the buildings across the street.

The SWAT van turned the last corner with screeching tires as the warehouse came to view. The armored vehicle mowed down the chain-link fence surrounding the complex, causing the operatives inside to jerk about. "Come on, get ready!" Kilroy yelled as she pulled her laser pistol from its holster. Bracing herself against her seat, she bit her teeth together.

The vehicle slammed into the double doors of the warehouse, crashing inside in an explosion of concrete dust and splintered doors. The back doors of the vehicle swung open as the operatives dashed out into the open area. Catwalks ran along the sides of the warehouse and long shelves of stacked crates created narrow corridors into the middle. Long windows running along the upper side of the building cast sunlight inside in addition to the light from the fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling of the hall.

A bright red beam of energy sliced into the warehouse through one of the windows, striking down a surprised EXALT operative on the catwalks. Frantic shouts rang in the air as the terrorists scrambled to organize in front of the attack. Wolfer was the first out of the SWAT van, running towards the lines of crates on the left, with Kilroy and Renzol following closely behind.

Cell had climbed up to the mounted autolaser at the top of the APC and was hosing suppressive fire at the enemy. Focusing on the ground level, she pinned down EXALT operatives behind the lines of crates as Wolfer moved aggressively in the vanguard, dropping enemies with his scatter laser one after the other.

The bright explosion of a flashbang from the catwalks to their right signaled Awo's arrival into the fight. Daishi dashed out into the catwalk, ducking under a barrage of gunfire from one of the EXALT's on the opposite side of the warehouse. The scout ran along the catwalk, drawing fire while Awo and Hypergeek emerged from behind her. Walking into the spacious hall, the lieutenant dropped the enemy firing at Daishi with a precise laser shot. Signaling for Hypergeek to move up, the infantryman covered his operatives as they made their way into the back of the second level of the hall. There, a small office box was located where the catwalks from either side of the warehouse united.

Glass rained into the hall as the sniper fire led by Iku continued to descend upon the hapless EXALT. Those who took cover from the snipers and Cell's autolaser were culled off by Wolfer or flanked from up high by Daishi, Hypergeek and Awo. The battle was set to be short and brutal. That is, until the elites showed up.

Daishi and Hypergeek were bracing against the door to the small office, ready to breach. Renzol watched on from her position behind the crates close to her SWAT van. Glancing up to her left, she saw movement on the upper walkway as a door to one of the stairwells swung open. She had barely fired a shot thus far and as she raised her shatterray, she realized this was no ordinary enemy. Shouting her warning into the air, Renzol pulled back into cover and slung the rocket launcher from her back.

Instead of stepping out into the catwalks to be sniper prey, the two EXALT operatives braced themselves on both sides of the door. Red beams cut through the warehouse as they fired their laser weapons at Cell, the gunner responding just in time thanks to Renzol's warning, ducking inside the SWAT van as the enemy's weapons left scorch marks on the top. Awo was the next target as he was forced back out the doorway he had come from, ducking under the lasers as he scrambled back outside.

Renzol stepped out of cover, rocket launcher steadied on her shoulder. Both eyes wide open she took aim and pulled the ignition. Just as she let the rocket fly, a panicked thought crossed her mind: where the hell was Wolfer?

The rocket veered into the edge of the catwalk, leaving a trail of smoke behind it. The explosion shook the metal walkway, shrapnel flying in the air as the EXALT operatives ducked into cover. A surprised yell emerged from between the crates below as the catwalk collapsed, bringing down some of the walls with it, toppling over crates and shelves into a mess of debris on the ground.

With her heart in her throat, Renzol swung the launcher to her back and crossed over with her shatterray at the ready. Daishi and Hypergeek burst through the office and to the edge of the collapsed catwalk. A reverse-engineered alien grenade flew through the air, finishing what Renzol had started as the wall covering the two EXALT operatives went up in an explosion of pure green energy. Cell's autolaser spun up at the SWAT van as she mowed down one of the enemies and Daishi's scatter laser flared, putting an end to the battle.

Daishi vaulted down from the catwalk, landing gracefully on the edge of the pile of debris. Renzol looked on with rising dread as the scout looked around in the pile of rubble, the dust from the explosion yet to settle. "I found him!" Daishi yelled as she pulled a bent sheet of metal free from the pile, revealing a bloodied Wolfer below. The big assault was grimacing in pain, a piece of debris sticking out of the SWAT helmet on his head.

Cursing loudly, the man struggled against the pile of debris as Daishi helped dig him out. Finally free of his premature burial, he grabbed onto Daishi's outstretched hands and clambered out, holding onto the tall woman for support. Daishi helped steady him with both arms around him, a worried look on her face as she inquired if he was alright.

Wolfer glanced up from the scout, straight at Renzol. His eyes were on fire, blood trickling down from his nose and from under the helmet. Clenching his teeth together, the man left Daishi as he limped around the devastation caused by Renzol's rocket. The rest of the operatives had made their way into the warehouse by now and Awo looked on doubtfully from the catwalk as Wolfer approached the small rocketeer, Daishi's attempts to calm the man down falling on deaf ears.

"What the fuck, Renzol?" the assault yelled as he approached the woman. The man was absolutely furious, and a horrific sight at that. Bruised and battered, he looked like he shouldn't have been able to stand up, let alone move. The other operatives had never seen Wolfer like this, and Awo began to worry he might do something he would regret later. Yelling for the assault to stand down, the lieutenant looked frantically for a way down.

"I said, WHAT THE FUCK?" Wolfer leaned over the small woman, gritting his teeth together as he stared her down. His nostrils flared open as he breathed heavily, clenching his hands into massive fists. Renzol was staring down at the ground, unblinking, her mouth a tight white line. Taking a stuttering breath, she didn't answer.

Wolfer grabbed Renzol by her shoulder, opening his mouth once again, ready to let the small rocketeer know her place. With a wild scream, Renzol brought her leg up, catching the big man squarely in his groin. With a muffled groan, Wolfer lost the grip on her shoulder as he collapsed into the ground, gasping for air. Renzol wheeled around and stormed out of the warehouse, her face emotionless.

Daishi laid a hand down on Wolfer's shoulder as the man struggled for air. "What the fucking hell was that? Fucking crazy bitch, somebody put a leash on that!" Daishi frowned as she knelt next to Wolfer, trying to calm the man down for the paramedics that would soon be with them. Looking up to see Awo closing in, Wolfer raised his voice once more, "You! Mister fucking squad leader! Control your fucking operatives!"

Awo frowned at the man, a sharp anger flaring up inside him. "Control? And what the fuck do you think you were doing there, Wolfer? You fucking piece of shit when I tell you to stand down, you will STAND DOWN do you understand me sergeant?" Awo's tone and expression were furious; he'd had enough with people overriding his authority and belittling him. It was enough he had to deal with it every day with Merlin, he would not have an idiot like Wolfer ignoring his orders.

The assault responded with a cold stare, finally giving in with a diverted gaze and a muttered acknowledgment. Awo looked up, glancing around the warehouse. "Where the hell did Renzol go?" he queried, his patience at its utmost limit.

Daishi looked at her squad leader with a grave expression. "Operative Kilroy went after her, sir", the scout responded matter-of-factly, causing Awo to glance at her and respond with a curt nod. Walking off the scene, Awo signaled for the approaching Council's clean-up crew and paramedics to get to work.

* * *

><p>Outside, Renzol was staring into the empty street. The ran-over chain-link fence lay under her feet as she brewed in the aftermath of the encounter. She was somewhat shocked to notice she wasn't even that shaken over the fact she had delivered some grade-A bullshit friendly fire on Wolfer, gravely injuring and potentially killing the man. Rather, she was furious and disappointed at herself for making such a grave mistake. The first rule of rockets fired of your own decree: make sure you have knowledge of your entire squad's position.<p>

Approaching footsteps signaled a conflict she had no interest in partaking right now. Drawing in a deep breath, Renzol braced herself. "Renzol? What the hell was that?" the worried and flabbergasted query from Kilroy rung in her ears as the special operative came to a halt next to her. Renzol took in another breath, staring off into the distance.

"For fuck's sake, he was wounded Renzol! I agree he's a fucking asshole but you can't just kick your injured comrades in the nads!" the woman kept going, staring at Renzol with an incredulous look on her face. Not getting a response, she stepped in front of the small rocketeer, forcing her to make eye contact.

Renzol drew in a third breath, this time meeting Kilroy's eyes. "I know, Kilroy. I know, okay?" she managed to respond, chills running down her sides as the muddled emotions splashed about inside of her. Kilroy regarded her with worried eyes, opening her mouth in response, only to be cut off by Renzol. "I know. Just leave me alone, okay?"

Kilroy gave her one last sideways glance before taking off back towards the warehouse. Renzol closed her eyes as she took in another deep breath, lifting her face towards the sunlight. Her knees were wobbling under her, but she was still standing. In the midst of the bustling scene, she visualized the Box as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

_You can overcome this. You are stronger than this. You are strong,_ the thoughts rang in her mind as she struggled to pour everything into the Box, struggled to purge herself of her emotions. Her heart was beating fast and she felt like she was shaking all over, even though her body was near motionless.

Little by little, the stress receded. It was far from gone, but at least Renzol felt like she was the master of her own mind again. Letting out a shaky breath she turned around, ready to confront her squad and begin the long road back to HQ. A long road in an enclosed space with the no doubt pissed off Wolfer.


	45. Chapter 44: From Argentina with love

Chapter 44: From Argentina with love

Scubaman let out a massive yawn, stretching out on his bunk. The beeping of the alarm clock on the night stand next to him stopped as the Latino reached out a hand, another yawn following as he got up to a sitting position on the edge of his bed, clad only in his green military boxers.

He had come to appreciate the solitude of his officer's quarters a little more, even though he still would have preferred waking up in his old room with Orgun and co. Rubbing his eyes sleepily the lieutenant got up, grabbing the fresh tank top he had thrown over the back of his chair and pulled it over his head. Striding over to the closet, he took the small bag containing his personal hygiene items and walked out of the room.

The bathroom was located at the end of the corridor, past Awo's and Medve's quarters. Scubaman walked past the doors and into the bathroom, glancing around the room. Four sinks lined the wall opposite the entrance, with showers to one side and toilet stalls and urinals to the other of the white-tiled room. Turning the faucet, Scubaman splashed his face with a healthy dose of cold water, grunting slightly as the tingling sensation on his skin brought his senses back on full alert.

Shaking the excess water off, he dug the electric toothbrush from his bag. Going through the morning's routine, the shaving foam and safety razor followed as Scubaman scrubbed his chin clean. Examining the result in the mirror the man grinned, running a hand over his buzz cut hair. Giving himself a wink, Scubaman gathered his belongings and started back towards his quarters, making a quick pit stop by the urinal.

Tossing the bag of personal items into the closet, Scubaman pulled on a pair of XCOM's field pants, followed by socks and combat boots. Grabbing his dog tags from the small writing desk and flinging them around his neck, he got back out into the corridor and headed for the small officers' lounge opposite their quarters.

The door was slightly ajar and Scubaman pushed inside with a jolly greeting, "Good morning boys! Isn't it just another wonderful day in our merry little xeno-scum slaying outfit?" Medve glanced up from the table, the morning's paper folded in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

"Morning, Scuba", the big gunner responded with a smile, returning his attention to the paper. Scubaman looked around the room but saw no sign of Awo. Striding over to the kitchen side where the worktop and cupboards were located at, he pulled open the fridge.

The officers still ate regular meals like lunch and dinner at the cafeteria, but they did have access to their own personal breakfast. Grabbing the necessities for a couple of sandwiches, Scubaman took his haul over to the worktop and started throwing together his meal. "Where's Awo?" the Latino inquired from his work, really more for the sake of small talk than actual curiosity as to where his fellow infantryman might be at.

"No idea", came the response from Medve. The big man looked up from his paper with a frown, staring off into the distance. "Now that I think about it, I haven't really seen him that much lately", he continued, turning his gaze to Scubaman as the Argentinian sat down on the other side of the table with his stack of sandwiches.

Scubaman gave a small shrug as he dug into the first piece of bread. Munching away at the food, he spoke with a full mouth, "He's probably just stressed out. You know how he is." Medve shook his head at the Latino's lack of manners, turning his attention back to the newspaper.

Finishing his breakfast, Scubaman stood up and walked over to the coffee maker. "You mind if I take this?" he asked, already pouring the coffee into his mug. Medve muttered his approval without looking up. Scubaman grinned at the situation, laughing silently inside as he quickly downed the coffee. Black and lukewarm, just as he liked it.

Tossing the mug on the worktop, he got ready to leave the break room. Stopping by the door, he turned back towards Medve, "I'll come up with something to cheer him up. You in on it?" The gunner uttered his agreement from the table and Scubaman strode out of the room, putting the issue with Awo on the back burner as he got ready to tackle today's case.

Drake had been discharged from the medbay a couple of days ago, and Stoli had followed yesterday. The operation in Fortaleza had almost proven to be fateful for both of them, but it was all in the past now: a battle among others. Scubaman had sworn to himself he would cheer the German engineer up, one way or the other. Grinning widely he got on with the day's work and training, his eyes already set on the evening.

It was an uneventful day. Scubaman was on duty, but no word of alien activity arrived. Morning turned to noon and noon to afternoon, and finally the last of the day's drills signaled the beginning of the anticipated evening. Taking a quick shower Scubaman hurried over to his quarters, grabbing the plastic bag containing his necessary gear. Tittering to himself, he started towards Stoli's room.

Both Orgun and Morgan had agreed to help the man with his schemes, laughing incredulously as he had explained his intentions. They would have to hold up the people from Stoli's room as they were returning from the day's training. With the plan set in motion, Scubaman slunk his way over to Stoli's room. Closing the door behind him, he walked up to the woman's bunk. Thankfully she had the backmost lower bunk; perfect for the occasion.

Stripping down to his stylish civilian boxers, Scubaman chuckled to himself. Reaching into the plastic bag, he produced a bow tie and a red rose. Wrapping the tie around his neck he got on Stoli's bed, clenching the rose between his teeth while suppressing the laugh that desperately tried to bubble out of him. Trying out several seductive poses he settled on lying on his side with one leg propped up, leaning against an elbow.

The wait wasn't long, but it was long enough to get him wondering. If Orgun would follow up on his threat to hold up Stoli and instead goad Wolfer into paying his room a visit from the medbay, he would be in for one hell of a ride. Suppressing another laughing fit, Scubaman calmed his mind. And not long after, the door creaked open.

Stoli stepped into the room, fresh from her shower. Her blond locks streamed over her shoulders from below the towel as she was drying her hair. She was wearing comfortable sweat pants and a tank top, oblivious to the surprise waiting for her. Walking across the room, she quietly hummed a song to herself. Stopping at her closet, she put her bathing gear away and hung the towel by the open door. Turning towards her bed, she froze halfway through the second step.

Scubaman had managed to calm down, as he always did. His eyes were sparkling with promises of passion and playfulness, his sculpted body resting on the white sheets. He was clad only in sleek black boxers and a bow tie, the bright red petals of the rose held between his teeth a splash of color in the ascetic room. Stoli ran her eyes over the sight, finally meeting Scubaman's gaze. Unfreezing herself, she strode over to the man, an involuntary smirk rising to her lips as she raised a curious eyebrow.

"Mhmmm, what's this? I don't remember leaving this here", she spoke mischievously, running a hand over Scubaman's chest. Tracing her way down over his abs, she teasingly let her fingers linger on the waistband of his boxers. Scubaman's eyes widened as Stoli licked her lips ever so slightly, sliding her fingers over the fabric. Reaching downwards, she gently grabbed the bulge in his boxers. Giving him the slightest of squeezes she pulled her hand away, leaving the front of the boxers suspiciously expanding.

"Get the hell outta my bed, Scuba", she spoke in a voice bubbling with laughter. Scubaman complied, jumping up and sprinting past her, grabbing the plastic bag containing his clothes with him. Running out into the corridor, he grinned at the flabbergasted operatives returning to their rooms. Winking at Gamage and Amineri as he sprung past them, Scubaman was about to burst with laughter. The rose was still clenched between his teeth, holding it all inside. Seeing Wolfer limp around the corner, Scubaman danced over to the other side of the corridor as he flew past the big assault, a puzzled curse following the jollily loping officer as he escaped the quarters of rank and file.

* * *

><p>"Man, I can't believe you actually did that", Orgun laughed, regarding the contently smiling Scubaman. The Latino was lying down in his old upper bunk in their room; he had managed to keep it free after all even with all of the new recruits coming in. Morgan chuckled from her place at Frag's old bed. The carefree woman had fit in just fine with Orgun and Scubaman, turning the dynamic duo into the terrific trio. Squint was nowhere to be seen, no doubt spending her free time with Kamikaze. Cell was off training with Renzol and JBowles had disappeared into the TV room to catch his show.<p>

Morgan rolled over to her side, looking up at Scubaman. "What'd you have done if she'd gone for it?" the assault asked, her eyes and voice glimmering with laughter. A smug grin rose to the Latino's lips as he continued to stare into the ceiling.

"What do you think, my little Morgunner? I thought you'd know by now that _el Zorro_ never kids when it comes to love and the act of love." Turning to face the woman's amused stare, Scubaman gave a small, almost bashful shrug before continuing, "To be fair, I didn't expect her to go that far. Though I'm ready for whatever comes of it, believe me. She'll fall for my charms sooner or later!"

Orgun spoke up from the end of their bunk bed where he was leaning against the railing, "Man, I don't think she's able to look you in the eye without laughing anymore. Makes your sexual endeavors a little hard, don't you think?"

Scubaman smiled confidently, getting up to look at his friend. "Laughter is love's little sister, did you not know that my sweet Kong?" Orgun raised an unamused eyebrow at the ill-fitting nickname. It was the result of one extremely drunken night when the two jokesters had taken it upon themselves to come up with the most unlikely of names for each other. As it turned out, Scubaman absolutely loved the moniker Ding Dong that Orgun had christened him with, leaving the Irishman alone in his misery at the name Kong. Thankfully, it had not stuck with most of the people in the outfit.

Scubaman re-positioned his pillow against the wall, settling back down more comfortably. Looking from Orgun to Morgan, his eyes sparkled with mischievous laughter. "So for the next attempt, I heard about this move called the naked man…"


	46. Chapter 45: Shotsy

Chapter 45: Shotsy

Drake lounged in the middle of the small clearing amidst the coniferous forest. The reek of the thin man's acid was still strong on her flak jacket, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. It was only her third mission after Frag's last operation all those months ago, and both of the previous ones had ended in misery for her. Taking a deep breath of fresh forest air tainted with the pungent odor of acid, Drake felt more alive than ever.

A smile rose to her lips as she bathed in the sunlight shining down on the clearing. The rest of the operatives were off to the side of the open area or at the nearby UFO, waiting for the recovery squad. Even though Drake was hardly one to doubt herself, she had to admit she had been nervous before the operation. The long months spent in the medbay combined with the heartache of her previous missions would have been enough to strike anybody down, so it was to be expected. But the nervousness and doubt had disappeared once the battle had started.

Just like any other fight, she had been in the vanguard as the assault of the squad should. She had not shied away from putting herself out there, ready to take one for the team. Even though she was trailing well behind Kilroy and Renzol on total kills, her missions-to-kills ratio was still unrivaled. Not that Drake really cared about any of that. Giving it her everything and sacrificing herself for the cause was something she had always done on the battlefield. Taking hits and delivering hits; she wouldn't have it any other way.

Turning back towards the rest of the squad, Drake joined Kamikaze and Squint who were sitting on an overturned log at the edge of the clearing. Vherid was resting against a tree some distance from them while Awo was consulting with central over his headset. The distant voice of Doubleumc carried over from the direction of the UFO as the medic kept company to AlexD, the South African recruit who was serving on his first operation.

Drake smiled as she approached the couple. Squint was fussing over the hit Kamikaze had taken during the operation, even though it had only grazed over his armor. "Look at you, this is what happens when you give me your lucky helmet! Are you sure it's alright? You should let Doubleumc take another look at that. Don't you fidget with me, mister!"

Kamikaze was trying to get away from the woman's roaming hands as she examined the burn. Glancing over at Awo, the man whispered at Squint, "Come on Squint, stop that. You're making me look bad in front of Awo!" The officer was focused on his headset but seemed to take notice of the exchange anyway. The lieutenant grinned and muttered something under his breath as he turned away, shaking his head.

"Hey, pipsqueak", Drake greeted cheerfully, giving Squint's worn helmet a tussle. The small scout turned her attention from Kamikaze to Drake, smiling at the assault from under the rim of the large helmet. Sitting down next to her, Drake stretched her legs out as she enjoyed the feeling of sunlight on her face. "You were leaving for R&R tomorrow, right? Who was it with again?" Drake inquired, picking up the small talk.

Squint followed her senior's lead, stretching out her legs and leaving Kamikaze alone for the time being. "Morgan and Petete. I'm kinda excited about it, actually. It's a great chance to make some new friends", the cheerful woman answered, the thought of a night out on the town only slightly marred by the fact she wouldn't get to go with Kamikaze. But during war, you have to take what you can get.

Turning to Drake, a shy little smile spread across Squint's lips. "I'm glad the op went well for you, Shotsy", she muttered. Drake responded with a laugh and wrapped an arm around Squint's shoulders.

The nickname hadn't really stuck with her from the early days of the conflict. She had taped the word Shotsy on her trusted ballistic shotgun and Kilroy had tried to make it a thing by teasing her with the name. However, during her latest stint in the medbay, Kilroy had come across Drake's old shotgun one day during training.

She had requested Orgun to bring her the needed materials from Nagoya during his day off and with some help from their resident tinkerer Petete, they had put together an assault teddy bear for Drake. It had a little beanie with ski goggles and both a ballistic shotgun and a scatter laser in hands with the name Shotsy embroidered across its fuzzy kevlar vest. It had sat on Drake's bedside watchfully throughout her recuperation and even though Drake hadn't admitted it to anyone, Shotsy had also found its way to her embrace during the long, lonely nights.

"I told you, it's the bear's name, not mine!" she playfully reprimanded Squint who continued to smile shyly under her arm. For all of the care and attention Drake had gotten from Kilroy, it felt good to be the big sister for once. Squint had become somewhat of a mascot for the women of XCOM and being around her always cheered Drake up.

Squint looked up at her, reaching out a hand to grasp Kamikaze's in her own. "Kilroy really means a lot to you, doesn't she?" the small woman asked Drake, causing the playfulness to disappear from the assault. Taking a deep breath, Drake gave Squint's shoulder a gentle pat.

"Yeah. She's like the sister I never had", Drake responded solemnly, the question taking her back to her own family. She had lost her father when she was very young and they had still lived in India. His death had prompted their move into the US where her mother had brought up Drake on her own. She had been a sickly woman and had passed away during Drake's second year with the army.

Even though the loss of her mother had been painful, it hadn't killed Drake's positive outlook on life. She had gone through a lot in life, but there was always hope for tomorrow. Even during times like this, when the fate of mankind hung in the balance, she had managed to maintain that outlook on life.

Returning from her thoughts, Drake smiled at Squint and gave her a small hug before getting up. "It's the same with all of you. You're the only family I need", she spoke cheerfully, causing a puzzled look to appear in Squint's eyes. Letting out a small laugh, Drake patted the small woman on her helmet once more. "Don't worry about it, pipsqueak. I'm gonna go save AlexD from the endless Pabulum", she told Squint as she took off, headed towards the forest and the landed alien craft behind the screen of spruces and pine trees.


	47. Chapter 46: The Secret

Chapter 46: The Secret

"Come on, push! Fucking push, you Salty bitch!" Cell's rough encouragement rang around the empty gym as Renzol struggled under the weight of the barbell. Rough grunts escaped the small rocketeer's throat as her face twisted with effort. Cell was leaning over the bar, urging her on.

"Just think of Wolfer! You wanna punch his fucking face in, I know you do. Now do it, fucking PUSH!" Seeing Renzol give it the last shreds she had in her, Cell gently touched her little finger to the underside of the bar. Like magic, the barbell lifted all the way up as Renzol groaned in accomplishment and frustration.

Grabbing the bar, Cell helped her friend guide it to its resting place. "Nice one! That's a new record for you!" the gunner complimented the effort Renzol had put in. Struggling to a sitting position, Renzol cussed in German as she slammed a hand against the bench.

"I couldn't do it", she muttered while throwing a leg over the bench, turning sideways to her friend. Her blonde, short hair hung over her temples in sweaty locks as she caught her breath.

Cell laughed heartily, shaking her head at the woman in front of her. "I barely helped. That was all you. And besides, even if you don't count the last one you still beat your old record by two repeats!" she observed in amusement. Even though she had gotten used to Renzol's mannerisms, the way she pushed herself in training still caught her off guard sometimes. It was like nothing she accomplished was ever good enough.

Renzol gave the tall woman a sideways stare. With her breathing steadying, a glimmer of humor appeared into her eyes. "You wanna punch his fucking face in?" she repeated Cell's words, breaking into laughter at the absurd encouragement the gunner had delivered her.

Joining Renzol's laughter with a small chuckle, Cell pushed a few strands of black hair behind her ear as her tight ponytail struggled to come loose. "Well, I know I wanna do that sometimes. I imagine you're the same", she muttered with a grin.

Their extra gym sessions had become part of Cell's daily routine. With her help as a spotter and the guidance in training schedule she had offered for Renzol, the small rocketeer had been able to overcome her slump in bench pressing. They had expanded the extra training to other areas as well and the evenings spent at the gym had become a pleasant pastime for the both of them.

Taking her end of the barbell, Cell began removing the weights. As Renzol got up to handle the other side, the gunner spoke her thoughts out loud, "It's really pretty damn impressive how much power you've got in that skinny body of yours." Renzol glanced up at her with a doubtful look.

"Thanks, I guess", she muttered at the praise. She was definitely pleased with the physical progress she had made over the past few months, even if she still had failed to gain mass in her arms. They were wiry and possessed more strength than it seemed but despite Renzol's best efforts, she hadn't been able to fill them out. Her back, shoulders and torso were in excellent condition along with her legs, and that's all that really mattered in the end. One doesn't carry around three rockets and a launcher with their biceps after all, and even firing the explosives required more strength in the neck and shoulder muscles rather than in the arms.

_It's not like I care about how they look anyway,_ Renzol thought somewhat wistfully to herself. She had long since accepted she would never be beautiful, but the newfound strength and courage had made her want to at least look the part. But if that's the way it would have to be then that's how it would be. At least she could take solace in knowing the strength was there, even if it wasn't obvious to other people.

Putting away the weights, the two women gathered their water bottles and towels as they headed for the showers. The silence between them bothered neither one as they had come to accept there was no need for idle small talk. With someone else Cell might have been uncomfortable in such silence, but not with Renzol. The rocketeer liked to keep to herself, and it had after all been Cell who had butted in on her private training sessions. What had begun as a tentative and wary friendship between them had quickly developed into quiet understanding. If Cell wanted to chat idly, she could go spend time with Scuba, Orgun, Kilroy and the rest of them or indulge in the simple games and TV shows that Wolfer among others liked to take part in.

It was the same for Renzol. She had been skeptical about the shared training at first, but Cell had proven to be tactful and a good instructor to boot, not forcing her methods upon Renzol. Today was the first time she had mentioned the friendly fire incident with Wolfer too, and even that had been little more than an indirect quip. Something that couldn't be said for everyone.

Renzol felt a twinge of shame at the memory. Daishi had confronted her in their room after the EXALT operation. She knew the scout had only tried to help, but Renzol had told her off so very harshly regardless. She was yet to apologize for it, and the whole thought of bringing it up now was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable and seemed unlikelier by the day.

_She was only trying to help,_ _but when did I ask for help? _Renzol thought to herself as she turned the shower off. Drying herself down, she bid Cell farewell as the gunner lingered in the showers. Opening her locker and pulling on the standard issue base clothing, Renzol left the sports section as she headed for her own room. Noticing how she was grateful Daishi was out on deployment, she felt an uneasiness come over her. It had become so easy to lock her own feelings in the Box, but it was a lot harder when someone else was involved. She would have to deal with this one way or the other.

With a deep sigh, Renzol pushed into her room. It was empty but for Vherid, immersed in one of his novels. The sniper muttered a greeting without taking his eyes off the paperback. Hypergeek was out fighting the alien threat with Daishi, but Renzol had no idea where Jive and DSM were. The thought of Jive made her look at the infantrywoman's bunk. It had been so long since Atlanton had last slept in that bunk, yet Renzol couldn't stop thinking of it as the cheerful Aussie's bed. Shaking her head at the sudden melancholy overtaking her, Renzol got down on her own bunk.

She hadn't thought about Atlanton in a long time. Of course she hadn't forgotten her, like she hadn't forgotten Frag or Foogleman, or anyone else who had died for that matter. But really thinking about them: what color were Atlanton's eyes? What was her favorite food? What was it that Frag had told her that day in the Skyranger? Wait, had he said anything? Hadn't he been silent? Foogleman that night at the martial arts room, wearing the tank top with LOCKDOWN embroidered across the front. Hawkeye looking at her squad leader earnestly as Renzol had led them out of the Skyranger.

The faces of her fallen comrades were still fresh in her mind. But how long would it take until she'd have forgotten those little memories she still treasured? She had poured everything she could from within into the Box; anything she saw as a weakness. But she would never hide away those memories of her fallen comrades. Those faces, they were the reason she had come to be who she was now. To not let it happen again; Renzol had not forgotten that promise she had given herself that drunken night after Frag's funeral. To lose sight of the people who had died, to sully the oath she had given herself. She wouldn't have it.

Rolling over in her bunk, Renzol took a minute to calm down. When she felt the bulk of the emotional winds pass by, she reached under her bed and pulled the heavy tome out. Grunting incredulously as her sore muscles failed to lift the book, she rolled over and grabbed it with both hands. Laying it against the end of the bed she propped her chin up by her pillow, diving into the pages of _War and Peace_ once again.

It was slow reading, but Renzol could appreciate that after the fantasy and sci-fi trash she had borrowed from Vherid. Some of the sniper's books were reasonable, some of them even good. But most of them were such superfluous garbage that Renzol felt she had read them all after reading only one of them.

The book got her thinking about Hunterhr. Renzol got along well with the quiet medic and they had shared a few talks about the book over breakfast and coffee, though she did always feel slightly uneasy in his presence. She wrote it off to that encounter in the TV room and how she had overreacted so horrendously. Shaking her head at the distracting thoughts once again, Renzol focused on the pages of the ancient book.

The words swam past Renzol's eyes as she struggled to pay attention to the story. First DSM and then Jive returned to the room as the evening turned to early night. Renzol was feeling unusually restless and had to re-read the pages multiple times as she realized she hadn't understood a word by the end of it. Eventually, she gave up with a sigh as she gently closed the book. Today's training had been a bit later than usual, so she blamed the restlessness on that. Getting up, Renzol left the room for a calming walk through the corridors.

The barracks was quiet, with most operatives already withdrawn into their rooms for the night. The TV room no doubt still had activity, but the sounds of drinking from the operatives' break room were notable in their absence. No one had the night off today, and the op squad dispatched to Argentina wasn't expected to return for another six hours or so. As Renzol walked past the break room, she could have easily missed the fact the door was ajar. But the clinking of glass on wood caused the small rocketeer to stop in her tracks.

_Someone's in there?_ Renzol thought curiously to herself, approaching the door. A sliver of orange light streaked into the corridor as she pushed the door slowly open, peeking into the familiar room.

Cell was sitting at the counter, smoke rising upwards from her cigar. A glass of bourbon sat in front of her as the woman stared at something in her hand. The gunner's face shocked Renzol; her eyes were red and forlorn, no doubt the result of a night of tears. Renzol hesitated for a moment, glancing both ways in the corridor. With a frown, she pushed into the room and closed the door behind her.

Cell startled at the counter, turning to look at Renzol. She slammed her hand on the counter, hiding whatever she'd been holding under her palm. Her expression was shaken as she watched Renzol approach the counter, the small rocketeer taking the bar stool next to her. Without speaking a word, Renzol leaned on the counter, staring at the stained mahogany surface.

She hardly needed to tell Cell she would get in trouble if caught drinking while not on base leave. Cell coughed uncomfortably as she cleared her throat, fidgeting around on her bar stool. Grabbing the bottle of bourbon on the counter, she was finally the first to break the silence, "You want a drink?" Her voice was quiet and weak, so completely unlike her. Renzol shook her head in response and the gunner re-filled her own glass, taking a long drink of the harsh liquor.

A moment passed as Cell drank her bourbon and smoked her cigar. Renzol sat quietly next to her friend, giving her time to gather herself. After the glass was drained, Renzol turned towards the woman next to her and raised her voice for the first time since entering the break room. "You want to talk about it?" she inquired, causing Cell to close her eyes as she leaned back on her stool, taking a stuttering breath.

"No. Yes. I don't know", the gunner answered, laying down her cigar on the ashtray and running a hand over her face. Her other hand was still on the counter where she had slammed it when Renzol had entered the room. Drawing in another labored breath, Cell lifted her hand and turned around the photograph.

The picture was old and slightly torn at the edges. A single crease ran across the front, splitting the face in half. It was the face of a cute some three-years-old girl, the smile on her lips displaying a pair of front teeth with a generous gap in-between. Renzol observed the sight quietly, moving her eyes from the picture to her friend.

Cell was gathering herself, eyes closed. Swallowing loudly, she finally opened her mouth, ready to share her secret after seven long years. "She's my daughter."

Her words hung in the air between them. Renzol waited, without a word. Cell held her face up towards the ceiling, eyes closed, looking for the words. Opening her eyes, she turned to look at the picture, unable to meet Renzol's eyes. Finally she continued, the words pouring out of her as the floodgates opened.

"I was such an idiot. Seventeen with a real asshole of a boyfriend. That loser ran right when he heard of it. But I guess I'm not much better." Swallowing once again, Cell took a shaky breath before continuing. "I was so mad at the world back then. Looking back on it, it was just teenage angst. So stupid. I gave birth to her, not that I wanted to. I held her those days in the hospital but right after my discharge, I wanted to give her away. My sister talked me out of it, promising to take care of her for a while."

Turning to look at Renzol, Cell let out a laugh of self-contempt. "For a while. Can you believe that? She promised to take care of her for a while, and what did I do? Leave the country and join the goddamn French Foreign Legion. I never returned to SA." Renzol could see the years of silent suffering in her friend's eyes as Cell turned back to regard the face in the photograph.

"I didn't even name her. My sister sent me this photo along with a letter three years after I'd left. I told her to never send me another picture. I almost tore this one in half, too." Running a finger across the crease, a lonely smile rose to Cell's lips. "It's the only picture I have of her. My sister kept sending me letters, though. It was just stuff between siblings, you know? But at the end, she always wrote something about little Jamball. I told myself I didn't care. I really, really believed I didn't care."

Putting a hand over her eyes, Cell's breathing turned ever shakier. A shudder ran over her as she continued, "Why now? I didn't… I didn't want to care. But what happened to South Africa… have you seen the floaters, Renzol? What do you think they do with the abductees?" The shudders turned into convulsions as Cell struggled to hold herself together.

"I just can't stop thinking about it… somewhere in SA, out of the sight of our watchful eyes… my flesh and blood." Leaning to her side, Cell laid her head on Renzol's shoulder. The small rocketeer wrapped an arm around her friend as the tears finally came, flooding out uncontrollably. Between inconsolable sobs, Cell sputtered on.

"Somewhere out there… my little girl. My baby girl."


	48. Chapter 47: Back at base

Chapter 47: Back at base

Author's note: I want to acknowledge huskinater in the youtube comments of episode 51 for the idea regarding Kungtotte's nickname and the letters from back home. Shamelessly ripped off and re-purposed for my own storytelling purposes : P (also horrible chapter name as always but I can't be arsed anymore, there's too many of them! :-D)

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><p>The deafening blaze of the Skyranger's jets filled the hangar bay as the aircraft descended onto its landing pad. With a flex of its suspension, the craft came to a halt as the ramp began to lower. Strike-1 was returning from another successful operation after assaulting a downed Raider-class UFO in the wilderness of Canada.<p>

Petete pushed herself off the railing on the upper level as she lazily sauntered her way down the stairs. She was wearing a pair of dirty overalls over her base clothing, with an unkempt ponytail of dusty brown hair streaming from below her beanie. A pair of dark ski goggles hung around her neck as the Dutch engineer reached the landing pad along with the Skyranger's mechanics.

A very satisfied Hypergeek marched out of the Skyranger at the head of the squad. The tech sergeant engineer had a hand over the arc thrower hanging from his belt: another capture operation gone right, this time totaling a thin man captive and both of the UFO's outsiders. Seeing Petete approach the aircraft, a condescending smile found its way to the Belgian engineer's lips.

"_Salut,_ Petete. Here to fix the aircraft again? I won't get in the way of your _très important_ work", the man remarked smugly, giving the corporal a small pat on her shoulder on his way out. Petete's mellow, disinterested expression did not change one bit, as if she hadn't even acknowledged the gibe directed at her.

A snort of contempt emanated from the Skyranger as JBowles walked down the ramp with his rocket launcher slung over his shoulder. The man's well groomed hair was slicked up with gel, and on his face he wore a look of disgust as he looked at the receding back of Hypergeek. "Someone's getting too big for their pants", the rocketeer observed, shifting his eyes from Hypergeek to Petete.

Petete greeted the operatives streaming out of the Skyranger with a small nod. Scubaman strode up from behind JBowles, slamming a hand on the rocketeer's back. "Come on JB, no harm done. Does Maple look offended to you, huh?" the lieutenant commented with a smile, drawing a puzzled look from Petete. The engineer seemed completely oblivious as to what they were talking about as she headed towards the Skyranger and one of the mechanics kneeling next to the aircraft.

Getting down on her knees, Petete grabbed the tools she needed from the toolbox and got on the creeper. The mechanic groaned in frustration as the operative slid herself under the aircraft. "Come on, Pete. You know I'm not supposed to let you work on her!" the man complained, turning to look up at Scubaman. "Can't you order her to get out or something, Scuba? Please?"

Scubaman let out a heartfelt laugh as he grabbed JBowles by the shoulder, leading him away from the aircraft and the mechanic in distress, waving goodbye over his shoulder. The mechanic's pleas to Petete fell on deaf ears as the tomboy engineer kept working on the hydraulics of the aircraft.

Merlin was leaning against the railing on the upper level of the hangar bay. Greeting Scubaman and JBowles as they walked past, the woman smiled at Kungtotte as he began his ascent up the stairs. Waving a letter in the air, Merlin caused a wide smile to appear on the sniper's face. Reaching his roommate, Kungtotte grabbed Merlin into a friendly embrace, muttering a thank you as he reached for the letter.

"Time to dip into the cookie jar again, huh?" Merlin remarked happily as Kungtotte ran his fingers over the unopened letter. Kungtotte smiled at the infantrywoman, giving her shoulder a grateful squeeze. Letting his hand linger for a moment, he took off towards the arsenal with the rest of the squad.

Kungtotte had a wife and a daughter back home in the US. Despite the secretive nature of XCOM, mail was delivered twice a month to the HQ through the Council's agencies. The letters from his family were something Kungtotte looked forward to the most in his days, and he always enjoyed them the same way: laying down in his bunk with a Girl Scout's Thin Mint cookie. He had bought the jar from his daughter before leaving for the secret outfit, and the habit had earned him the nickname Thinmint from his fellow operatives. That and his ability to drop thin men with his sniper rifle.

Dropping off their gear in the arsenal, the operatives got into the locker room next door. Stripping off his armor, Instinct groaned as his flak jacket pressed against the plasma burn on his side. "You okay there, buddy?" Scubaman inquired from across the room. Observing the burn in his own armor, the lieutenant let out a sigh of relief that the shot he had taken hadn't penetrated the protective material.

"It's nothing. I'll be out of medbay in no time", the Nigerian assault muttered, throwing his flak jacket on the bench. Gingerly, he stripped off the rest of the equipment and stashed them in his locker.

Zim chuckled from her place at the end of the locker room, flexing her neck while tying her hair into a loose ponytail. "Too bad. You could've used a lengthy honeymoon with your boyfriend", the gunner commented sarcastically, earning a cold stare from Instinct.

Picking up from the snide remark, Daishi tried to put a positive spin on the conversation, "But hey, maybe it's not that bad. Get to spend some time with Wolfer… why haven't you been visiting him, by the way?"

The assault let out a deep sigh, getting down to work on the lacings of his combat boots. With a shake of his head, the stout man muttered in an annoyed tone, "I dunno what the hell is going on with him. I just can't be arsed to deal with his shit when he acts like a moody little kid. More so than normal, that is."

Instinct's concluding words caused Scubaman and JBowles to burst into laughter, much to the disapproval of Daishi. The scout frowned at the two men, struggling to find some words of encouragement for Instinct. Concluding there was nothing she could say, Daishi offered to walk him out to the medbay. Agreeing out of courtesy rather than any real need for help, Instinct set off with the tall woman.

The rest of the team followed, promising to meet for post-op drinks in two hours. JBowles was left alone in the locker room with Scubaman. Closing his locker, JBowles turned to the infantryman with a grin. "You feeling lucky, Scuba?" he jeered, drawing a dismissive snort out of Scubaman.

"I've told you a million times, JB! I'd win in a heartbeat, but I just like drinking!" the officer exclaimed happily as he stuffed away the remainder of his gear, following after the rest of the operatives with JBowles. The man Scubaman had endearingly titled the frat boy of XCOM sure loved his beer pong and as much as the infantryman tried to act nonchalant about it, JBowles' skills in that particular game were quite impressive indeed.

Leaving the locker room, the operatives spread out across the base, all into their own activities. It was another operation well done, and another night's rest well deserved as the alien threat had been pacified. For now.


	49. Chapter 48: Downpour

Chapter 48: Downpour

The winds were picking up, and the rooftop on the cloudy July afternoon was getting chillier by the minute. And it wasn't all due to the weather.

The man gripped his silenced sniper rifle with rising anxiety. Scanning through the scope, he saw people pass by in the streets below; hurrying towards their destinations to escape the inevitable downpour. The orders were clear: civilian casualties were acceptable. The man swallowed nervously, trying to ease the suspense within. His headset buzzed to life, relaying new information.

"_Target approaching your sector Echo-3. Eyes peeled, you're authorized to take the shot."_ The man closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. Steadying himself, he peered through the scope towards the crowd of civilians once again.

Seeing the target approach, the sniper brought his crosshair on point. He didn't have a clear shot as the target weaved her way through the crowd of people. She was a brunette female in her thirties, wearing a brown leather jacket with aviator sunglasses perched in her hair. There was no doubt about it; this was the one they called Sheriff.

Tracing her through his scope, the man waited for the opening. It came right when the target approached the end of his sector. The crowd of people parted and his crosshair locked in place, leading slightly in front of the steadily walking woman. Readying to pull the trigger, the man froze in place. Is this what he wanted to do with his life? Would this really wash away all the doubts in his mind?

As quickly as the moment had come, it passed. With relief, the sniper watched the woman disappear between the buildings as she moved on to the next sector. Letting out a trembling sigh, Echo-3 reported to his headset, "Target is gone, I did not have the shot. Repeat, target moving on to sector 4."

Listening to the response, the man closed his eyes as he let his shoulders relax. The respite was brief as the cold barrel of a silenced pistol exerted its pressure against the back of his head.

"Looking for someone?" a query came from behind him. It was the voice of an American female, with the slightest tint of the orient to it. A chill ran down the man's spine as he knew his end had come. Without thinking, he spoke the words.

"I had the shot. I didn't kill her." A brief moment of silence followed the words, seemingly stretching on for an eternity as Echo-3 waited for the bullet that would end his life. Would he realize the moment when it came? That brief millisecond between the lead leaving its chamber and burying itself in his brain, would he get to experience that? Or was he already as good as dead?

"Drop your rifle over the edge", a cold command rang in the air. With shaking hands, the man complied. The sniper rifle clattered over the concrete edge of the building, the barrel striking the wall as the rifle spun wildly on its way down. "Your pistol too", the voice spoke from behind him, and Echo-3 didn't hesitate. Pulling the weapon out of its holster with his index finger and thumb, the man tossed it over the edge, holding his breath.

The barrel lifted from his head, followed by a blow to his temple. Echo-3's vision darkened as he fell to the hard concrete of the roof, gasping for air. Rolling over to his back, the sounds of receding footsteps and incessant ringing filled his ears. Stars danced in his eyes as he tried to focus on the sky above. Rolling his head to the side, he glimpsed the back of the woman: a kevlar vest, dark ponytail and the nape of her neck, the color of sweet, sweet caramel.

Groaning in pain and nausea, Echo-3 turned his eyes back towards the sky. The clouds were dark and heavy with rain, and he was quietly grateful for the absence of sunlight. As moments passed, the stars disappeared from his vision and he felt his stomach settle. Feeling he could stand without throwing up, the man gingerly rolled over, pushing himself to his knees. Shaking his head, Echo-3 brought his hand up to his face and froze in place once again.

His hand was touching the mic protruding from his headset. Pulling the headset off, the man stared at the gadget. It was bent slightly on the side where the woman had struck him, but even if it was broken, he had spoken the words before the blow. They had been listening. Throwing the device on the ground, Echo-3 jumped up and brought his foot down on it, smashing the dark plastic to pieces.

_This isn't worth it. Fuck this._ Grabbing the red-and-orange scarf around his neck, the man angrily yanked it free. Staring at the cloth for a moment, he tossed it into the air. The winds picked up on it, sending it spiraling through the air and over the streets as the first drops of rain came down on the city. The drizzle quickly turned into a downpour, and the gray concrete of the roof was stained a darker hue.

_At least it's not stained red_, the man thought to himself, watching the scarf flutter down with the rain, disappearing from his sights. Turning to the door, Echo-3 took off in a tentative jog, his balance still rattled by the blow from earlier.

Outside in the rain, the scarf continued its descent with increasing speed. It would reach the ground soon enough; inevitably, without fail.


	50. Chapter 49: Left in the dust

Chapter 49: Left in the dust

A construction site on the outskirts of Acapulco, the famous Mexican tourist trap of the 1950s. A gentle breeze swaying the trees in the shaded July evening. The quiet peace is but a fleeting illusion; a façade about to be torn down. Much like what used to stand on the lot before the construction work.

"I see… a thin man. A few seekers farther back. I can't tell the numbers from the shadows." Squint was huddled next to a large freight container filled with soil. She was looking at the interface of the BattleScanner™ Receiver pad as the high-tech surveillance equipment revealed ground past a pair of shipping containers and a construction office. Corporal Volatile was in charge of the operation, the infantrywoman leaning in to listen to the whispered relay of information from Squint.

Looking up to the rest of the squad behind the freight container, Volatile signaled for Kamikaze to get closer. As the gunner knelt next to his leader, Volatile spoke in a low voice, "Take the grenadiers up behind those shipping containers, we'll take them by surprise. Squint, you're with him. I'll hold the ground from here, provide long range support. How copy?"

"Roger that", the man muttered, emphasizing his words with a solemn nod. Gesturing at Prowler and Wootastic, Kamikaze led the specialist and lance corporal across the dark field. A small digger blocked their line of sight to the enemy as the squad made their way over to the shipping containers, Squint holding the rear.

Taking cover behind the alloy of one of the aliens' abduction pods, Volatile scanned towards the enemy position. To her left a massive pit had been dug in the center of the lot, surrounded by fencing. The yellow backhoe of an excavator peeked over the edge as Volatile surveyed her squad's flank. Their position would be extremely difficult to hold if caught in a crossfire; they would need to dispatch of this initial contact ASAP.

Vherid and Pavehawk spread out to cover behind her, readying their long-range weapons. The cover was sparse and not exactly ideal; a lone wooden crate and a concrete mixer. Hunterhr had stayed with the support force, ready to deploy his smoke grenades wherever they were needed.

The assault squad reached the first shipping container, huddling into the shadows against it. Kamikaze turned to look back towards the rest of the squad, and Volatile gave him a thumbs-up. Feeling slightly uneasy, she turned to survey the pit once again.

"Go loud!" Volatile yelled as four freakishly tall and nimble shadows emerged from across the massive pit. Sending a laser fizzing past one of their heads, Volatile gritted her teeth as she braced for contact. The thin men dashed into the pit, disappearing behind a large cement mixer truck and the piles of crates and planks littering the bottom.

At the shipping containers, the assault team sprang into action. Two alien grenades launched over the container, wreaking havoc in the midst of the hapless thin men, exploding two of them into fine acidic mist and shreds of Gucci. Squint missed her mark as of one of the thin men dashed to cover, but Kamikaze didn't. Taking cover behind the small digger, the gunner's autolaser flared red in the night as he hosed high-energy at the alien, laying it down.

"Re-orient! No one's getting flanked in my squad!" Volatile yelled, taking cover against the new enemy at their left. Pavehawk and Vherid cussed as they scrambled with their heavy rocket launcher and sniper rifle, struggling to ready the weapons. The red cloud of Hunterhr's smoke grenade bloomed behind Volatile as it enveloped Vherid and Pavehawk, leaving the squad leader standing guard at the front.

The seekers behind the construction office came to life as they took to the skies above the building. Green plasma fired down on Kamikaze, forcing the gunner to huddle against the small bucket of the digger. A salvo of fire raked across his armored back, drawing a grunt of surprise from the man.

As the aliens prepared to assault, Earth's finest responded in kind. Volatile glanced a laser beam off one of the thin men in the pit as it inexplicably leapt its way over the edge, dashing into the construction office. Turning her attention to the next one, Volatile carved open the alien trying to sneak its way along the edge of the truck.

The combined efforts of Pavehawk, Wootastic and Prowler rattled the construction site as the rocket and two grenades exploded with a deafening roar. The front of the construction office went up in a massive explosion of green and orange, macabre fireworks in the Acapulcan night.

With her laser rifle now empty, Volatile dropped the weapon and drew the heater machine pistol from her hip. In the midst of the settling dust, she saw a tall figure coughing in the ruins of the building. The resemblance to a human being was uncanny, but Volatile didn't hesitate. The machine pistol stuttered in her hands, sending a spray of lasers into the ruins. With a sharp screech, the thin man collapsed into the rubble.

Squint and Hunterhr fired at the seeker looming over Kamikaze's digger, putting an end to the mechanical flier and freeing the man to join the fight. Sending a hail of lasers down towards the last remaining thin man, he pinned the creature down behind a stack of planks on the edge of the pit. The alien returned fire, sending a hail of plasma flying past the gunner. Taking advantage of the dauntless alien, Vherid locked his crosshair over its head. Connecting solidly, the laser from the sniper rifle splayed its alien brains out into the night.

Muffled groans filled the air as a solitary floater flew into the bottom of the construction pit, the voices of its podmates echoing from the darkness beyond. Volatile cussed as there was no time to reload, bringing her heater on target.

"Need help here!" Prowler yelled from behind the shipping containers. A seeker had Wootastic in its grasp at the very back, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of her. Kamikaze left the frontline to help the engineers while Squint dashed up to the fencing, ready to aid Volatile with the floaters.

A barrage of plasma shot up from the edge of the pit, causing Squint to recoil away with a surprised yelp. Firing her scatter laser wildly at the concealed thin man pressed up against the wall of the pit, Squint called for backup. Prowler obliged, his alien grenade tracing an elegant arc into the pit, the explosion engulfing both the thin man and the floater.

Volatile cussed as her heater emptied its energy cell into the floater, the alien still alive. As the half-mechanical beast brought its carbine up, another flurry of red beams punched into its chest, Pavehawk's shatterray finishing the job.

Picking up her laser rifle again, Volatile slammed in a fresh energy cell. Raising her voice, she led the squad in their final stand, "Hold your ground! They're coming!"

And so they did. The three floaters flew in over the pit in their aggressive fashion, carbines sending a hail of plasma at Squint. The scout peeked out from behind the fence, pulling away from the fire. The rest of the squad supported her, laser fire filling the sky as the aliens dropped one by one. Volatile struck one, then another as Pavehawk and Hunterhr cleaned up after their squad leader.

A quiet settled over the battlefield as the operatives waited for more to come. A moment passed, then another. Turning to her squad, Volatile took command of the situation, calm as ever, "Perimeter sweep. Squint, Pavehawk on the left. Kamikaze, you take Prowler on the right. Vherid ready to support across the pit. Hunterhr, make sure Wootastic is alright."

As the operatives acknowledged their orders, Volatile brought her hand up to her earpiece. She was wearing the same beret she'd worn on the day of Frag's last operation, with the sunglasses stashed into a pocket on the front of her flak jacket. Volatile walked up to the edge of the pit, contacting Central on the line. As she waited for the response, the deceased infantryman found his way over to her thoughts.

_What would you think of me now?_ Volatile gazed across the pit, admiring the lights of the city in the distance. The long months spent in the medbay had seen her left in the dust as the rest of the outfit's infantry had gone on multiple operations, earning promotions left and right. Wistfully, Volatile touched a hand over the pocket containing the sunglasses.

_I meant to succeed you, Frag. Fill your boots. How selfish of me to be jealous for the success of others._ Closing her eyes, Volatile wallowed in the feelings of self-condemnation. The buzzing on her earpiece brought her back to the moment as the commander's voice came through on the line.

Spotting a secluded spot in the bottom of the pit, Volatile started down the wooden ramp. What she didn't notice was Vherid, staring at her from his vantage point at the edge of the pit. The sniper regarded her with contemplative eyes. Letting out a small _hmmm_ the man turned his eyes back to the task at hand, ready to support either recon squad in the unlikely case of additional contact.


	51. Chapter 50: Firefight

Chapter 50: Firefight

Operatives lined the handgun shooting range as the day's training was coming to a close. The newly promoted Lieutenant Van Doorn was overseeing the exercise, smiling ever-so-slightly as he walked past the row of operatives with his hands behind his back.

Coming to a halt behind Awo, he inspected the target as the infantryman got ready to replace it with a new one. "Nice work, captain!" Van Doorn shouted his compliment over the gunfire. Awo glanced over at the new officer, an inquisitive look in his eyes. Leaning in closer, Van Doorn raised his voice once again, "I need to step out for a bit. Keep an eye out for me, ok?"

Awo vocalized his acknowledgment, turning back to the shooting range as Van Doorn left the long concrete hall. Tearing down the alien-shaped target, Awo noticed Merlin leering at him from the range to his right.

"Little Dumpling in charge now? Does mama have to hold your hand?" Merlin's mocking voice carried over the commotion of the shooting range. Awo shook his head indifferently at the jest, muttering under his breath as he returned to his training. Merlin stared at the man with a pout, disappointed at the lack of a reaction. Determined to having her fun, she laid down her own piece and stepped over to Awo's range.

Kilroy and Drake were practicing further down the line, lost in heated competition. They were the outfit's best shots with a pistol and neither acknowledged the other's superiority. Tearing down her target, Kilroy turned to Drake with a smug grin. Lifting up the thick paper for her friend's inspection, Kilroy's jaw dropped. Drake was holding her own target up with an unimpressed look on her face. The shots on the Indian assault's target were all clustered at the thin man's head whereas a couple of Kilroy's shots had trailed down towards the silhouette's body.

Grinning at her friend's reaction, Drake glanced past the Canadian assault. Letting out a weary sigh at the sight, Drake laid her target down on the counter and took Kilroy's attention, pointing past the woman towards Awo and Merlin. The brunette glanced over her shoulder, inspecting the sight for a while before turning back to Drake.

"Looks like the lovebirds are at it again" she shouted at Drake, letting out a hoarse chuckle.

Drake shook her head in response, giving Kilroy a reprimanding look. "This hasn't been funny for weeks, Kilroy", she shouted over the gunfire, looking at her friends with a worried look.

The squabble between Awo and Merlin had developed into a full-blown argument as the two former roommates had at each other. Merlin's temper was a frightening thing indeed and once she got rolling, there was no stopping her.

"Don't you fucking patronize me! You're the one who's acting like a little baby! Wittle bittle crybaby! 'Moooom come help, Merlin's being mean again!'" To emphasize her point, Merlin followed up with an ear-screeching cry, drowning out Awo's reply.

"See this? Why don't you act like a goddamn human being for once. What the hell is wrong with you woman?" His words had no effect on Merlin who kept on bawling, drawing looks from the other operatives on the range. Gritting his teeth, Awo grabbed the woman by her arms, trying to shake her out of it.

Jerking herself free harshly, Merlin gave her superior a shove. "Don't fucking touch me!" she screamed, resuming her insults.

Awo shook in his boots, fighting against the urge to let go of any semblance of propriety and engage the woman. The fight had been lost before it had even begun, and his voice joined Merlin's as the two slung insults at each other, the gunfire at the range now completely halted.

Renzol had been practicing her much deteriorated gunslinging between Cell and Hunterhr. Turning to look at Cell, the gunner returned her anxious stare. Lowering her earmuffs, Renzol immediately regretted the decision; Awo and Merlin still had theirs on and their voices were a deafening crash of booming and screeching as they lost themselves in the heat of the argument.

Returning the protection to her ears with a wince, Renzol turned back towards Cell. The gunner's anxious look had turned to one of disapproval and scorn as she frowned at the pair. "What the hell do they think they're doing?" she muttered, just loud enough for Renzol to hear.

The surprise at the situation had quickly flared up into irritation as Renzol regarded the fight from under her brow. Drake was standing close to the two arguing operatives but her attempts to calm down the fight were fruitless to say the least.

"How am I supposed to train like this?" the rocketeer muttered to herself in exasperation, drawing curious looks from Cell and Hunterhr. Grabbing her pistol from the counter, Renzol briskly made her way over to the troublemakers, receiving a worried inquiry from the shocked Hunterhr.

The vile words fell on her ears as she reached the scene of the fight. Stepping to the front of the range, Renzol flicked the safety off and emptied the magazine into the target at the end of the line. Turning around, she found Awo and Merlin staring at her with wide eyes, the woman holding a hand to her chest, for once quieted. Giving the two of them a cold stare, Renzol left for her own place without a word.

Cell and Hunterhr were staring at the rocketeer with incredulous looks, the gunner finally bursting into laughter as Renzol slammed a fresh magazine into her pistol. Focused on the target at the end of the range, Renzol resumed her training as gunshots filled the air at the shooting range once more.


	52. Chapter 51: Heroes

Chapter 51: Heroes

Drake leaned against the railing at the Skyranger hangar, watching on with a heavy heart as the operatives of Strike-1 descended the stairs to the aircraft sitting on its landing pad. A crowd had gathered to send off the squad deployed against an alien transport ship that had landed in the woodlands of Canada.

Drake had been on one before, and it broke her heart to watch from the sidelines as the heroes lined up in front of the Skyranger, turning to wave good-bye to the operatives on the upper level. Renzol was calm and collected as she always was these days; that is when she wasn't stark raving mad over a breach in her perfectionism. Drake could only wonder what went through the small rocketeer's head right now, her thoughts an enigma to everyone in the outfit. Surely there must have been a great deal under that emotionless façade of hers, seeing how the last transport ship operation had gone.

Hunterhr was standing next to the rocketeer, the contemplative look on his face turning to a gentle smile as he waved goodbye to the people wishing them luck. Drake couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if the medic had been on the last two large UFO operations. _Save somebody's life today, Congo,_ she thought to herself, wishing him the best of luck in her mind.

Kungtotte was standing next to the medic, and Drake returned the sniper's smile as their eyes met. He was a good man, too good for war. He belonged back home with his wife and kid; hopefully that would be true one day in the distant, distant future.

Captain Medve seemed the most distant of the group, his brow furrowed in concentration as he absentmindedly answered the good-byes. Drake felt a tinge of pity and sorrow for the big man; he had been the first of their new officers and had distanced himself from rank-and-file. Drake suspected the man carried a heavy burden from Frag's death, manifesting in his dedication to the duties of leadership. _But don't we all have our crosses to bear?_ she thought to herself, the anxiety eating her up from inside.

Scubaman was wooing the ladies on the stands as always, sending out flying kisses into the crowd. Smacking an exceptionally passionate one at a group of junior operatives, the man caused Amineri, Wootastic and Gamage to melt in their boots as they squealed _El Zorro's_ name. With a hearty laugh, the man turned from the girls to find Drake looking at him. With a deceptively shy smile, he made a motion of picking up his heart and sent it at Drake with a kiss. Laughing at the irresistible scumbag, Drake caught the kiss and slipped it in her pocket, drawing a cacophony of _aaaaawwws_ and _oooooohhhs_ from the girls who followed Scubaman's every move.

Hypergeek was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly anxious to be off and away. He responded to the well wishes from the crowd, but didn't actively seek out people. For a brief moment, Drake wondered whether the man actually had any friends in the outfit before turning her attention to the Canadian women on the side.

Daishi was smiling her trademark good-spirited smile at the people on the upper level as someone pushed through the crowd. DSM crouched down on the edge of the level, beckoning at Daishi. The scout approached the edge, looking curiously up at her friend. Drake followed with interest as DSM leaned over, looking almost ashamed. Grabbing Daishi's hand, her lips moved as she muttered something at the tall woman, blushing ever-so-slightly. A smile bloomed on Daishi's face as she nodded solemnly and with that, DSM jumped up and retreated to the back of the crowd, yet still lingering in the hangar bay. _What was that all about? _Drake wondered, the anxiety forgotten for a brief moment.

And finally, there was Kilroy. The hot-shot secret agent was smiling confidently as she humored the people in the crowd. She was ribbing the still-injured Wolfer as the man complained over how he should've been on the mission if not for his injury. Kilroy was laughing the man's boasts off, listing the people who would've been chosen before him. The list included everyone in the outfit.

As Wolfer conceded his defeat with uncharacteristic joviality, Drake caught Kilroy's attention from across the hall. They had already had a private sending-off, but seeing Kilroy ready to leave for the landed alien craft without her still stung Drake's heart. Last time it had been Foogle who hadn't made it back; before that, Frag. Seeing her sister ready to leave without her, Drake felt the anxiety turn into anguish.

_Not her. Don't let them take her away from me, too._ Kilroy's smile died down as she saw Drake's expression. Realizing she was on the verge of tears, Drake shook herself hard, giving her cheeks a pair of solid slaps. Kilroy was staring at her with an incredulous yet amused look, and as the stinging drove the tears away, Drake responded with a laugh. It was half-hearted and not at all what she was feeling right now, but it was the best she could muster for Kilroy.

"Alright everyone, get on inside. This isn't a farewell. We're all coming back", Medve raised his voice over the hustle of the crowd, and everyone waved their last good-byes at the crowd. Walking up the ramp into the Skyranger, the heroes of Strike-1 disappeared to the interior one by one. Holding the rear, Kilroy turned around once more to look at Drake, giving her a thumbs up. Smiling at the gesture, Drake watched her sister get eaten up by the Skyranger as the ramp rolled up, the jets quickly flaring up as the craft prepared to take off.

The hangar doors in the ceiling came to motion as the sealing mechanisms released themselves, and daylight swarmed the hall. The aircraft took off with a massive roar as its high-tech jets lifted the plane up ever so steadily. Rising above the doors, the main jets re-oriented as the aircraft prepared to launch. With a massive blast, the Skyranger disappeared from their sights as it departed for the site of their outfit's next operation. The doors closed with a resounding clang, and the crowd in the hangar bay slowly began to disperse.

Drake leaned against the railing, lost in thought. The anxiety was still strong inside, and she had a feeling it would not recede until the squad returned. A hand landed on her shoulder and she turned her head to find Orgun standing next to her. The normally so boisterous rocketeer was wearing a sympathetic and gentle smile on his face.

Opening her mouth, Drake searched for the words for a while, stumbling over herself. Unable to voice her feelings properly, she settled on a sigh and a platitude, "I should be with them."

Orgun let out a sigh of his own, leaning his backside onto the railing next to her. "I know how you feel", he spoke solemnly, looking off into the distance.

"Do you? Do you really?" Her voice was sharper than intended, and she glimpsed a look of hurt in Orgun's eyes before the man concealed it. With a frustrated sigh, Drake hung her head over the rail. "Sorry", she muttered her apology.

"Hey, don't mention it." There were no more words. The two operatives kept on leaning against the railing, lost in their thoughts long after the rest of the crowd had left the hangar bay and returned to their daily schedules.

* * *

><p>The setting sun cast dark shadows amongst the trees surrounding the huge alien craft. Strike-1 was making their way through the edge of the forest and the steep sides of its hills, careful not to attract more unwanted attention from within. The carcasses of multiple chryssalids littered the short strip of no-man's land between the forest and the UFO farther back, the remnants of their first contact with the extraterrestrial defenders.<p>

Captain Medve was leading the squad with his second-in-command Scubaman close by. Signaling for the formation to halt, the captain stopped beneath a massive pine tree to discuss the approach with his lieutenant. Renzol spread out into cover with the rest of the squad, preparing her launcher in case of surprise contact. The small hillock they were on sported quite sparse cover as the squad huddled behind an overturned log, scanning for activity. The rise came to a dead-stop beyond Medve's pine tree, falling to the ground in a steep wall of bedrock some three meters tall.

From her position Renzol could clearly see the alien transport ship to her left, but directly in front of her, a patch of forest concealed the rest of the craft from her vision. Medve finished his parley with Scubaman and signaled for Hypergeek to join them. Renzol followed the engineer with her eyes as he joined the two officers. Caressing her launcher gently, she cleared her mind.

_All you see is the battlefield. All you are is a soldier. You fear nothing, _she repeated the mantra to herself. Hypergeek pulled a BattleScanner from his rig, sending the sturdy little device far into the shaded forest beyond with a trained throwing arm. Kneeling down with Medve, the engineer surveyed the interface of his combat tablet. A few mumbles between the two followed before the captain got up, walking hurriedly back to the squad.

"We have two cyberdiscs beyond the forest, supported by four drones. Kungtotte, Daishi, get back on that outcropping behind us. Lie down in the tall grass, hopefully you can get an angle with your rifles. Renzol, get ready. You'll take us off with Hypergeek's help" the litany of orders was spoken with confidence as the gunner led his people. The marksmen took off with haste as Renzol slid a shredder rocket into her launcher.

Hypergeek crouched down next to her, the Belgian engineer's face stern and no-nonsense in concentration as he inspected the coordinates on the bottom of the screen. Taking a glance at the pad in his hands, Renzol blinked. The view on the screen was constantly revolving as Hypergeek twirled the joystick around, panning throughout the area beyond the forest. It would've been impossible to aim a rocket with only the image to guide her. That's what squad training is for.

The engineer's voice reflected his concentration as he spoke curtly, "Distance is… set fuse timer to two seconds. Center on the right edge of that withered pine tree there, see?" the man leaned in to point out the target for the rocketeer with the laser of a rangefinder.

Renzol muttered her acknowledgment as she punched in the ignition timer on the launcher's interface before pulling out the long-range targeting reticle intended for targets out of line of sight. It extended to the sides of the launcher from the top, allowing her to change her aim based on instructions without having to center the targeting system again. Adjusting the sight, she centered the 90o mark on the edge of the withered tree. It left plenty of room for her to pan her aim to either side based on the instructions that were to follow.

"Target is stationary… take aim at nine-five degrees", Hypergeek spoke without taking his eyes off the pad, gently rolling the joystick around to make sure no new contacts had moved into the area.

Renzol followed the instructions, moving the launcher carefully to the left until the edge of the tree reached the line indicating 95o. "Target locked. Clear my backblast", she spoke, gripping the handle with a palm slightly sweating from the tension. Her trigger finger twitched as she waited for the engineer's go.

"Fire!" Hypergeek's order rang in the air around the squad, loud enough for everyone to know it was go-time. Renzol pulled the ignition, and the shredder rocket left the launcher with a massive _swoooosh,_ sending up dead grass and pine needles from the ground behind her_. _Renzol struggled against the blast as she kept the launcher on target, pulling it down from her shoulder as she followed the trail of smoke into the forest. The explosion that followed shook the tops of the pine trees before them, sending a flock of crows into the dusky air, cawing their displeasure at the sudden commotion.

"What a shot! Two drones down, I repeat, two drones down. Impact on both discs. Prepare the next shredder, we'll hit them again before they know what happened!" the engineer's voice was hectic as the ecstasy of battle rushed his veins.

Renzol complied, pulling the shredder rocket from her back and slamming it into the launcher. Shouldering the weapon, she heard Hunterhr's shout as the red cloud of smoke enveloped the squad, all except for Medve who was standing behind the huge pine tree, autolaser readied on his hip.

"Clear my backblast! What's the angle?" Renzol yelled as lasers fizzled through the air from farther back as Kungtotte and Daishi engaged the enemy at range.

Hypergeek's lips moved heatedly as he ran himself through the simulation. "They're on the move, one-oh-five degrees. Repeat, one-oh-five degrees and FIRE!"

Renzol pulled the ignition once more, this time cussing as the launcher jerked hard on her shoulder. She wasn't exactly sure she'd gotten the angle right. The smoke trail disappeared into the forest once more and Renzol wasted no time as she reached for one of the two regular rockets she had left; hitting a concealed target with their smaller blast area would be a lot harder.

"_Merde!_ Impact only on one of them. Prepare the next roc-", the engineer's instructions turned into a loud cheer as a laser punched over the open ground. "Disc down! I repeat, one disc is down!" The cheer quickly turned into a cuss once more as he inspected the view provided through the BattleScanner, "_Les fils de pute_ is getting repaired by those little fucks! Another rocket, one-three-one! Fire at will!"

Renzol kept her breathing going hard as she lifted the loaded launcher to her shoulder a third time. Taking aim in a hurry, she locked in at 113o and pulled the ignition. The rocket blasted off into the forest and beyond, followed by a cry of dismay from Hypergeek, "_Mon Dieu! _Where are you firing that rocket?"

Renzol felt a lump form at the back of her throat before a flare of frustration overpowered the feeling of failure. "Speak English you French fuck! That's why you repeat the GODDAMN COORDINATES!" The look Hypergeek gave her could kill, but as the man glanced back at the pad, the source of his concerns changed.

"Incoming!" The engineer's cry prompted another smoke grenade from Hunterhr and the red cloud bloomed over the people at the overturned log, leaving Medve standing guard at the wide trunk of the pine tree.

The cyberdisc came in hard, spinning wildly around the edge of the forest as its chromed surface glimmered in the rays of the setting sun. A laser punched into its hull from the marksman squad, to no recognizable effect. Even with smoke, the log was suddenly looking like a most inadequate piece of cover against the mechanized threat, and Renzol dropped her launcher as she reached around for the laser rifle hanging on her side.

The autolaser at the front of the squad spun up with a massive howl as Medve hosed a spray of energy at the disc coming in low, skimming along the surface of the ground. Even as the howling of the weapon grew ever more urgent, the captain didn't stop. The cooling systems struggled to keep the lasers coming but Medve kept on firing, the rays of energy striking true as the red barrage of death kept following the disc's every move.

Its alloy shell shredded by the rockets from before, the cyberdisc had no chance. Only as the oversized frisbee dropped to the ground in an explosion of circuitry and yellow fire did Medve let his autolaser have its rest. The captain was standing with his legs spread, smoke rising along the barrel of the huge weapon. Pulling back into cover, he yelled for everyone to get ready for the follow-up.

The two remaining drones came in after the disc, looking almost sad as they searched for a target to repair. Renzol gritted her teeth as she sent a laser fizzing past one of them, but Scubaman shouted merrily from behind her as he dropped the target. Another flurry of lasers flew past the second one, and once again the infantryman's cheer rang over the squad as he claimed another kill.

"All contact is down", Hypergeek reported as he put away his pad, the BattleScanner having expired in the heat of the battle. Reloading one after the other, the squad stayed put for a moment, waiting for reinforcements to arrive on the alien side.

When nothing came, Medve turned to his squad. The man had a stern look on his face, but a small smile peeked through as he complimented his people. "Great job, everyone. Nice shooting on the drones, Scuba. Which one of you dropped that oversized piece of crap?" the captain inquired as Kungtotte and Daishi approached the squad from farther back.

The scout pointed a thumb at Kungtotte and the sniper grinned with a small nod, ever modest but clearly pleased with himself. Medve nodded, keeping the interlude brief, "Very good, Kungtotte. Nice work on the rockets Renzol and Hypergeek. Those were some difficult shots, but they paid off. Let's move out!"

Renzol brewed in anger and frustration at the perceived failure. Taking off with the rest of the squad, she gripped her laser rifle hard as she stomped across the uneven terrain. _I can do better. I know I can do better._

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself as the squad made their way through the forest across from their fighting position. Glancing at the withered pine tree on her way past, she felt the frustration already receding to the back of her mind. _I'll give you the Boxing tonight. Oh you can be damn sure about that._

* * *

><p>Scubaman was grinning widely as he strode through the woods next to Medve. It was always good to start a mission off with a couple of clutch kills. Not that he lacked confidence, but the warmup was always welcome.<p>

Approaching a rise on the edge of the forest, Scubaman peered off towards the alien craft. They were about to reach the end of the UFO, and just around the last corner the gaping maw of the ship's stern awaited them. A walkway rose from next to the massive jets, running along the side. A small doorway let him glimpse a peek inside, the eerie green glow of elerium barely illuminating the entrance. A dark shadow passed by the glow as Scubaman recoiled in surprise. The howl of a chryssalid followed, and nervous murmurs filled the air around the squad.

"Oh hell no, I'm not going in there!" Scubaman spoke in a light tone, equal measures joking and serious. Medve gave the squad orders as they spread out into cover on the forested hillside, waiting.

A moment passed, and then another. As it was becoming obvious the predators would not charge them, Medve rose up from behind his log. "Well if that's how it's going to be, then that's how it'll be. Daishi, get a scan going inside. Everyone, get ready to move out. We're going in through the back", the captain's voice was calm and collected, betraying no nervousness at approaching the dangerous creatures in close quarters. Scubaman had to give him credit for that.

Staring off into the doorway, the lieutenant raised his voice in jest as Kilroy passed him by, "Why aren't these bugs rushing us? What do they think they are, velociraptors?" The assault barked up a small laugh before taking point. With a sigh and a somewhat fluttery stomach, Scubaman joined her as they led the squad down the hillside.

"Sectoids and chryssalids. I can't get a number on them. They just keep dashing in and out of view", Daishi reported as the BattleScanner provided her with its vision. Medve gave his chin a contemplative rub as he considered the approach.

_So what you're telling me dear Daishi, is that all of these xenos look the same to you?_ Scubaman chuckled to himself as he bit back the urge to make the jest, knowing Medve would not take kindly to such shenanigans in a time like this.

"Scan again at the backdoor. Hunterhr, be ready with that smoke. We're going to have to breach this one in close." Emphasizing his words, the captain turned to look at the steep cliff the alien craft had landed against. There was only a dozen or so meters between the back of the UFO and the wall of rock, with no good cover to take. The pilot of the ship sure had nailed the landing, if blocking the stern of the ship had been its intention.

Scubaman took the lead as he moved in closer to the opening, sliding right past the huge jets of the alien craft. _I sure hope the Dorito doesn't hit the throttle right about now,_ he thought to himself, the urge to share the jest with the rest of the squad almost overpowering this time. Inching closer, Scubaman stopped their advance as Daishi rolled her last BattleScanner across the doorway.

Leaning in to observe the pad, Scubaman saw a couple of sectoids and one chryssalid darting in and out of vision in the large room dominated by raised platforms on either side. The green elerium glow of the craft's power sources illuminated the walls on the sides along with the holographic images projected by several flight computers. On the ground level, waist-high alloy ridges ran across the floor. Scubaman tilted his head at the sight of the bizarre room.

"Kilroy, you'll take us off by crossing over to the other side. Everyone else, ready to support. We will take that alloy ridge closest to us", Medve paused for a moment as the operatives shifted their weight, ready to pounce. As Daishi put away the pad and lifted her strike rifle, everyone was ready. With one final glance over the squad, Medve spoke the words, "Go, go, go!"

Kilroy dashed across the doorway, pulling her laser pistol on the run and firing into the large hall. The angle was awkward as there was only one real firing port into the hall from either side, and the threat of the chryssalids loomed close. The squad fought on from their position out of cover as Hypergeek sent a grenade into the ship, blowing up one of the ridges further away, catching two sectoids in the explosion. Laser fire barreled into the UFO as the remaining sectoid was carved open by Daishi's strike rifle.

A panicked scream from their right caught Scubaman off guard as he glanced at Kilroy. The woman was huddled behind the large jet, taking cover from the sectoids concealed from Scubaman's sight. The woman seemed to be under no pressure from the enemy, but Scubaman knew better. He felt a tinge of pity for the woman as the enemy assaulted her mentally, driving her to a huddled pile on the ground.

_Damn, we need her against those 'lids,_ the thought crossed his mind as a cacophony of screams erupted around him. The squad had been ready to move in, but suddenly their laser fire re-oriented, red energy bursting towards the top of the ship. As Scubaman turned to look, he saw a single chryssalid descend from the roof.

_Fuck me,_ was all he managed to think as everyone missed the falling creature. Bringing his laser rifle up, the Latino managed to glance the horrific insect as it landed right next to him with an eerily graceful bend of its extremities. As the bug rose to its rear claws, Scubaman watched saliva droop down from its twitching jaws. For a moment, the world stopped.

With a desperate yell, the infantryman brought his right arm up, the claw of the chryssalid piercing through the butt of his rifle. The other claw came in hard from his left, raking across his chest as the flak jacket was torn open like a cheap paper bag. The yell turned into a scream of agony as Scubaman's vision darkened. Leaning away from the creature, he pulled hard on his rifle. Twisting the weapon on target he pulled the trigger, all the while falling, falling, falling down to the ground.

Collapsing onto his back, Scubaman let out a muffled grunt as he felt the rifle twist free of the chryssalid's grasp. Desperately struggling for air, panic filled his mind as nothing came in. The gash across his chest was pulsing with red hot pain, the deadly acid from the wound seeping into his blood stream. He felt the veins on his neck bulge as the substance coursed in, sealing his fate.

_Goodnight,_ he thought as the world rapidly darkened. From a distance, he heard the muffled sounds of battle and a shout as something shook his world. The face of Hunterhr appeared above him as the medic leaned in, slamming a needle into his neck. Pain exploded in Scubaman's chest as air rushed his lungs, bringing the world back to him. Shaking his head in shock, Scubaman gasped for air as Hunterhr sprayed medicinal foam into his wound.

"Clever-", Scubaman broke down into a fit of gasps as the pain of speaking overwhelmed him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the pain, adamant. "Clever girl", he croaked at the medic, a wild grin rising to Hunterhr's face as Scubaman refused to let go of his ways even in the face of certain death. Grabbing him by the shoulder, the medic pulled Scubaman up to a sitting position.

Picking up the laser rifle next to him with a grunt, Scubaman turned back to the fight. Daishi, Medve and Hypergeek were struggling inside, behind the closest alloy ridge as they staved off the horde of sectoids, chryssalids and floaters. Floaters? "Oh this is just great", Scubaman groaned, striking one of the chryssalids with his rifle. Cursing as the weapon ran out of ammo, he pulled the heater machine pistol from his belt and finished off the creature before it could threaten his comrades.

Out of nowhere, Daishi screamed in panic as the sectoids continued crippling their squad with psychic assaults. As Hypergeek joined the woman in her wailing, Scubaman felt his stomach turn. Falling to his side, the infantryman let out the contents of his stomach to the ground in a flurry of pained gags, each convulsion stretching open his chest in unimaginable pain.

_It's just the shock of the trauma. I'm not losing it. I'm not losing it,_ Scubaman assured himself as another convulsion overtook him. _They need me, get it together dammit!_ Steeling himself, Scubaman prepared to rise to his knees and join the fight proper.

"Scuba!" the frantic cry of Kungtotte from behind caused the infantryman to look up. A floater flew in from under the maw of the ship, its plasma carbine pointing at him. Helplessly, Scubaman watched on as the muzzle of the weapon flashed green.

* * *

><p><em>No, no, no. No this isn't right…please, no more.<em> Kilroy didn't know whether she was speaking or thinking; the world had collapsed around her, and all she could do was take in the horrific imagery.

Corpses wearing the XCOM combat uniform littered the ground around the stern of the alien ship. The alloys were stained dark red as the end had finally come. The air in the ship was heavy, with clouds of dark crimson rolling in from the horizon beyond as the scenery twisted into visions of madness.

Daishi was hanging by the wall of the ship, impaled into the alloys with severed chryssalid claws. Below her, Renzol was sitting down, chin resting against her chest. She was clutching a pistol in her hand, the side of her head blown open as her brains decorated the wall beyond. On the ground before her, Frag was lying on his back. His neck was completely burned away by plasma, the dead eyes of his severed head staring deep into Kilroy's soul.

_Something's not right…this isn't right. _As the panicked thought filled her mind, Kilroy felt something gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. But just as she thought of grabbing onto that gnawing feeling, she closed her eyes to hide from the vision of her dead friends.

Closing her eyes was not an option. A nauseating twist rose in her stomach as her lids rolled around in her head, closing her eyes only opening them to the sight once again. Sobbing pitifully, she looked on as Scubaman shuffled amongst the corpses. The man had been so full of life; now his lifeless carcass wandered amongst the bodies of the dead.

Wherever she turned her eyes, ever more death greeted her. Foogleman was suspended in the air, the seeker still holding her in its grasp. Kilroy broke into tears as she saw the woman's face; she hadn't been able to save her. _I'm sorry, Foogs. I'm so sorry._ Half of her face was torn off by buckshot, the other half twisted into a mocking grin. _You did this. You killed me,_ it screamed at her, driving Kilroy insane.

Sobbing helplessly, she turned to see the end. In the middle of the great bloodied hall, under the rolling clouds of crimson thunder, Drake lay on an operating table. Her sister was split open from crotch to throat, and under the fluorescent lights, a pair of men in white coats observed her insides. They wore red-and-orange scarves around their faces as they poked and picked at Drake's body, muttering to each other in cold voices.

_I can't. I can't do it. I give up._ Laying her head down, Kilroy realized she had been hugging her scatter laser the whole time. She was huddled into a small ball, the weapon pointing at her face. It would be so easy. The trigger was right there. All it would take was a small pull, and it would all be over. With a sigh of relief, she reached for the release.

_I've been dead a long time, Kilroy._ It was a voice she hadn't heard in ages. It was calm and confident, and a little bit sad. And with it, the gnawing suspicion returned. This wasn't right.

"F-Frag?" she muttered in confusion as the visions before her wavered, a ripple on the surface of insanity. Shaking her head, Kilroy tried to grasp onto that gnawing feeling, like a drowning woman grasps onto a straw of grass. Yes, this isn't right. Frag died months ago.

_What the hell are you doing, woman? Get up and fight!_ This voice was hard and cold, full of sass. Squeezing her eyes shut, Kilroy shook her head. Reaching up a hand, she slapped herself hard, shouting triumphantly as her head cleared. Opening her eyes, she saw the world swim back into view; blurry through the visions yes, but without a shadow of a doubt the real world.

With a scream, Kilroy brought the scatter laser up and fired at the chryssalid charging her. Three undistinguishable operatives were huddled behind an alloy ridge in the hall, under fire by the enemy and unable to fight all of the aliens as the bugs speeded past them, clattering towards Kilroy on their long claws.

The first one dropped down in a heap of cracked chitin, and Kilroy pumped her scatter laser. _That's more like it! You go girl!_ The voice faded out as the last of the visions disappeared from her sights. The second chryssalid was still coming at her, and Kilroy brought her weapon on target.

Letting it get close, she released a burst of high-energy rays into the disgusting creature. Its momentum carrying it on, the chryssalid tumbled past Kilroy in a tangled mess of claws. But more were still coming.

A lone chryssalid charged through the middle of the hall, plasma fire from the floaters leaving the squad unable to respond. Leaping off the alloy ridge the vanguard was using for cover, the creature flew through the air towards Kilroy.

"Motherfucker!" Kilroy yelped as she turned around and ran. Her knees were wobbly and her chest was burning, and glancing down as she pumped her weapon, she found a plasma burn on her armor. With no time to wonder about the wounds she had taken, Kilroy scrambled away from the maw of the ship and the alien giving her chase.

Almost tripping over the roots and rocks jutting from the ground, Kilroy saw the cliffside rise up before her. Knowing it was the end of the road, she wheeled around, bringing her scatter laser up. With a sharp cuss, she stumbled over an overturned log, falling to the ground.

The chryssalid leapt into view over the log. Firing her scatter laser at the airborne creature, Kilroy sent it flying over her head. Pressing herself to the ground, she closed her eyes as the chryssalid's claws stirred the air before her. Opening her eyes, Kilroy stared at the crimson sky, so beautiful in its natural sunset. Rolling to her side, she threw up all over the bodice of her flak jacket.

With a sputtering cough, she reached an arm to the top of the log and dragged herself up. Looking on towards the fight, Kilroy barely saw through the red cloud enveloping the entrance. With a deep breath, she pushed herself up to her feet and gingerly clambered over the log, a shout leaving her lips:

"Hold on! I'm coming!"

* * *

><p>"Fire in the hole!"<p>

Renzol's shout was followed by a deafening roar as the rocket's explosion engulfed the two floaters on the ledge to the squad's right. An elerium power source went up in a bright flash of green as the explosion shook the hall. Scraps of flight computer rained down over both sides as the creatures turned tail and barreled off towards the back of the great hall.

"Don't let them get away!" Medve ordered his people, dashing after the enemy. Plasma rained down on him from the back of the open room as the previously retreated sectoids ambushed the advancing gunner. Pushing his head down, Medve swung his autolaser from side-to-side as he sprinted for the wall before him, green fire fizzing past his head.

Crashing against the wall of the platform, the captain wasted no time. Stepping out, his autolaser spun up and the red beams nailed one of the sectoids to the wall, leaving burnt pieces of the little gray man sticking to the alloys of the ship. Continuing to fire, Medve turned the beam of his weapon towards the remaining sectoid.

The alien tried to escape, the wildly spinning beam of red fire glancing its bony backside as it scampered away. A red beam fizzed through the air from behind Medve as Daishi caught the fleeing alien with her strike rifle, and one last squeal left the sectoid as it tumbled to the floor in a burned heap.

"Only two more left! Take the hall!" Following the captain's words, Daishi dashed up the left side of the room as Medve took the bizarre alien lift up to the devastated level. He felt queasy as the energy field lifted him up through the air and to the ledge, but wasted no time in dashing up to a flight computer. Behind him, the rest of the squad moved in.

"I see them!" Daishi shouted from across the hall, her strike rifle rising up sharply. The scout took the shot, and a floater's muffled groan rang in the air as the creature rolled in through the door located in the middle of the back wall.

A grenade flew through the air as Hypergeek found his mark. The wall around the large doorway shook as the explosion of green energies tore a large opening into the material, revealing the last enemy beyond. Before Medve had time to take aim, a deadly red beam from Kungtotte's rifle pierced the creature's body, laying down last of the contact.

"Tend to the wounded!" Medve ordered, signaling for Daishi and Hypergeek to stay on the ledge to the left while he kept an eye on their right. Down on ground level, Kilroy grimaced as Kungtotte brought out his medkit.

Scubaman staggered into the room with a wild laugh, miraculously alive. "Those things can't shoot for shit! Did you see that guy?" The laughter turned into whimpers of pain as he laid himself down on the ground, leaning against the wall.

"Ow, ow, ow! Goddamn that hurts. Hey, Congo! You got some more of that magic juice for me?" Approaching the wounded soldier, Hunterhr pulled a syringe from his medkit. Injecting the contents of the needle into Scubaman's arm, a blissful smile spread across the man's face.

"Morphine, baby! Now that is a man's cocktail! You want some, Kilroy? Congo'll hook you up!" his speech was a frantic avalanche of words as what little inhibitions remained in him disappeared with the drug.

Taking a good look at Kilroy for the first time since the beginning of the heated battle, Scubaman burst into laughter once more. "Wow, you look like shit Kilroy! What happened to my beautiful Angel of Death?"

The assault barked up a laugh, retorting jovially to the gibe, "Me? Take a look at yourself, Scuba."

The infantryman's smile widened to a grin, his eyes sparkling. "Don't you know, Kilroy? _El Zorro_ always looks fabulous, even on Death's Door!" Scubaman's words incited a cacophony of laughter in the hall, Hunterhr stepping away from the man with a chuckle as he finished tending to his wound.

Medve grinned at the sight. He was happy the man was alive, but the mission was far from over yet. He knew what kind of a crew piloted these ships, and the operatives of Strike-1 still had their work cut out for them. "Great work everyone, but it's not over yet. Let's get ready to move out", the captain spoke, drawing Scubaman's attention.

"Igor my man! He kinda looks like an Igor, doesn't he? A big, badass Russian man. Not that there's anything wrong with being Dutch. I mean, not that I'm racist against Russians. I mean, not that Medve isn't a perfectly good name, captain sir. I'm gonna call you Igor from now on. Is that alright, Captain Igor?" The man's ramblings drew more chuckles and headshakes from the squad.

"Get yourself together, lieutenant", Medve commanded, thorougly amused. Scubaman jumped up, throwing up an exaggerated salute.

"Yes sir, Captain Igor sir!" Gathering up the people on the ground level, Scubaman led the group to Daishi's position on the left.

Kilroy regarded the infantryman with a look both concerned and amused. "Can you fight like that? Fucked up on morphine, can you even aim that rifle?" the assault spoke, drawing another laugh from Scubaman.

"This is nothing, Kilroy! You should've seen me back on the streets of Buenos Aires! I used to shoot best when drunk!" the man's words sparked up Kilroy's curiosity; Scubaman had never spoken of his time in Argentina. He had shared stories about his immigration to the US, learning the language and enlisting in the military but never anything beyond that. Before she could inquire further Medve joined the squad, taking the lead.

Strike-1 made their way out of the great hall located at the stern of the ship, walking out into the ever-darkening evening. The last rays of sunlight licked the tops of the great alloy arches running along both sides of the craft. Below them, the cargo of the transport ship waited to be claimed by the Council's recovery team. Leading his squad down the ramp, Medve heard a chilling howl pierce the air.

"Great, just what we need. More 'lids", Kilroy muttered from next to the captain. The squad leader lifted his arm up, halting their advance.

"Get in formation. We're doing this by the book", Medve spoke and the operatives formed a tight circle, with Scubaman in the middle. Advancing along the pathway running through the middle of the UFO, they entered a world out of a nightmare.

The alien craft's bizarre design rose all around them, like the fortress of some madman. Chasms appeared in regular intervals along the edges of the walkway, plunging down to a network of pipes running below. Green and red lights glimmered down in the depths, pulsing steadily like the life blood of a great beast. The cargo spaces on both sides were filled with dark boxes, the shadows between them no doubt teeming with chryssalids.

The floor of the walkway was adorned with small fluorescent lights on the side, with larger ones located at every intersection. The lights shone up towards the now-darkened sky, casting eerie shadows on the sides of the great alloy arches. Another blood curdling howl pierced the air, followed by the clatter of claws on alloy.

"I'm keeping my eyes up, you can be damn sure about that", Scubaman muttered from the center of the formation as they inched their way forwards. Their weapons were trained towards the openings on either side as the squad covered each other's angles. The howling intensified all around them as the chryssalids prepared to strike at their prey.

A tall, distorted shadow appeared on the wall of one of the cargo spaces. The howls were joined by intense clattering as the chryssalids descended upon the squad from all sides. Lasers pierced through the air as the shadows of operatives and aliens alike danced on the walls, almost elegant in their ballet of death.

As was often the case with chryssalids, the battle was over as soon as it had begun. Six purple carcasses spilled ichor onto the floor of the alien craft, and the squad let out a collective sigh of relief. Reloading his autolaser, Medve turned to regard his people.

"You know what still awaits us. Let's go wrap this up, and we'll all get to go home." Even as he spoke the words, doubt filled Medve's mind. Would they be able to take the outsiders without any deaths? If Frag hadn't been able to lead them successfully, how could he possibly do that?

_If someone's going down, I'll be damned if it isn't me._ Steeling himself, Captain Medve led his squad up through one of the cargo spaces to their right. The dark had settled over the forest and the UFO amidst it, and the faint green glow of elerium peeked into the night from the open main door of the cockpit. The sight of the familiar room was nauseating from this perspective; Medve could almost see Frag peeking out from behind the corner, Foogleman firing her shotgun from that alloy ridge. Both now long dead.

Spreading out quietly, the squad took position on the small door on the side of the cockpit. Kilroy and Daishi hung to the back, ready to move to the open main door. With Medve's go, Scubaman hit the switch next to the door, causing the energy field to recede.

It was an ambush, one that would weigh heavily on Medve's heart. From behind the corner, two outsiders appeared out of nowhere. As they took aim on the squad, Hypergeek reacted first. His last alien grenade flew at the aliens, the explosion causing them to recoil from the fight. Medve wasted no time.

"Push up! These two need to die!" Medve didn't want to think of the rest inside the cockpit. The wall was partially blown open by the grenade and as Medve dived into cover behind the alloy ridge, a barrage of green energy whizzed past his head. A flurry of lasers rained down on the two outsiders, a disconcerting amount of them missing. Sounds of battle emanated from the back of the cockpit as well as Kilroy, Renzol and Daishi engaged the enemy.

Medve's autolaser spun up, tearing the one behind the ridge to shreds from point-blank range. As the other outsider dismantled from a precise laser shot, Medve witnessed the price they had to pay for the careless breach.

Kungtotte dashed to cover next to Medve, holding his rifle in the air as he slid the last few meters on one knee. The man's face was calm in concentration, and he never realized what hit him. As the barrage of plasma buried itself under the sniper's raised arm, his eyes glazed over. Without a sound, Kungtotte slumped to the ground limply as the sniper rifle fell from his grasp, clattering against the alloys of the ship.

_No. Not like this. Don't let it happen this easily,_ the captain begged in his mind as he stared at the sniper's still body. For a moment, it looked like he drew in a stuttering breath, but Medve couldn't be sure. He was completely oblivious to the battle raging on around them as plasma fizzed by his head.

Inside the cockpit, Kilroy screamed in agony as she drew fire from the enemy that had moved out to engage Medve and the rest of the squad. She fired her scatter laser at the outsider huddled behind a flight computer. As the enemy turned to face her, she smashed her weapon into its smooth face, over and over again until it fell to the ground. Bringing her scatter laser around, she blasted the creature to oblivion.

The desperate cries for help barely reached Medve's ears as he kept staring at Kungtotte's face. The sounds were coming from a great distance away; muffled, indistinguishable background noise. A sudden jolt of pain ran up his shoulder and all the way to his central nervous system as the plasma burned away at his flesh. Eyes rolling back in his head, Medve bit into his tongue, the taste and smell of fresh blood rushing his senses.

_NO! I won't have it! Not like this, Frag! Hold on, friend! I'm coming!_ With a bestial roar, Medve jumped up. Bringing the autolaser around, he barely felt the sizzling skin and burnt muscle of his shoulder as the weapon spun up in his hands. A massive barrage of laser fire blasted towards the last two outsiders, the creatures taking cover behind similar alloy ridges behind the cockpit. The front one was a massive hulk of a beast, double the size of its smaller brethren.

Screaming madly, Medve was oblivious to Hunterhr huddled next to him on the ridge. Scubaman and Hypergeek moved into the cockpit as Kilroy reloaded her weapon inside. She was pushed up against the wall, mere meters from the enemy.

"Come on, do it! KILL ME YOU UGLY MOTHERFUCKERS!" the weapon in Medve's hands screamed deafeningly, but the man's defiant roar rang louder. The outsiders sent a rain of green death at him, and Medve tossed his head wildly from side to side. He didn't know what he was doing; dodging the fire or trying to catch it.

Red energy rained down on the outsiders, pinning them behind cover. As Medve stood his ground, his squad moved in to support. Kilroy was the first one out of the cockpit, yelling incoherently as she moved in between the outsiders. The smaller one disintegrated from a single well-placed shot. As the monstrous pilot of the craft tried to wheel around, it was greeted by Daishi, the strike rifle sending a sizzling hot laser through the creature's shoulder. Kilroy followed up with another screamed shot, and the enemy shook from the impact of the blast, losing hold of its carbine. Without a moment's hesitation, Hypergeek jumped up to the alloy ridge as Medve's weapon finally died down. Taking aim squarely on the creature's head, a red flash in the darkened evening signaled the end of the fight, the dust from the alien's body scattering into the four winds.

Medve reeled for a moment, the autolaser falling from his grasp. With a roaring voice, the captain in him worked on autopilot. Realizing the mic on his flak jacket was burnt and useless, Medve grabbed the radio phone from his waist. "BIG SKY GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW. WE HAVE A MAN DOWN, MOVE YOUR GODDAMN TITS!" Not waiting for a response, he turned to Daishi. "Move your ass, tech sergeant! Kungtotte's life depends on you!"

The scout responded with a brisk nod before turning on her heels. Taking off in full sprint, the strike rifle swung wildly from side-to-side as Daishi headed for the LZ located some distance into the woods.

Turning to look at Kungtotte, Medve saw Hunterhr kneeling next to the wounded man. Picking out Renzol and Hypergeek from the group of people, Medve roared for the two uninjured operatives to help the medic. The rocketeer and engineer knelt on either side of the wounded sniper, leaning in to hold him in the places Hunterhr showed them.

Against the torn wall of the cockpit, Scubaman and Kilroy leaned their beaten bodies against each other. The Latino rested his head on Kilroy's shoulder, his breathing heavy and hard as the adrenaline left his body. "You gonna die, Scuba?" Kilroy muttered, reaching an arm around the man's shoulders with a grimace.

"If I said yes, would you fuck me right now?" the man responded in a weary yet solemn tone. Kilroy croaked out a small laugh and turned to regard the man next to her.

"Are you ever serious? Like, ever?" Kilroy was smiling affectionately at the man next to her. She would never admit it, but he meant so much more to her than she let on.

Scubaman didn't open his eyes nor reply, choosing to just smile quietly instead. After a while, he let out the quietest of mutters, little more than a whisper, "Who said anything about jokes?"

Medve turned his face up to the sky, closing his eyes in pain. His body was on fire, and his mind was a tangled mess. Taking a deep breath, he enjoyed the slightly chilly northern air on his face for a while longer before bringing the radio phone up to his mouth.

* * *

><p>The air hung heavy in the hangar, reminiscent of a thunderstorm fast approaching.<p>

Waiting was the last thing Drake wanted to be doing right now, but it was all she had. Shifting her weight anxiously from one side to the other, she sat perched on the railing above the Skyranger landing pad. Everyone from the barracks and medbay was there. Wolfer was lost in thought next to Instinct, the two assaults looking better by the day. Even Rata, who had been on life support for two weeks, was on the edge of the crowd in her patient's gown, dragging her drip around with her.

_I should've been with them. I NEEDED to be with them, _Drake thought while running a hand through her dark hair, grabbing onto the locks hard. Knowing how the previous large UFO assaults had gone; losing Frag, losing Foogleman. The flight back, delirious from pain medication and injuries. But at least it hadn't been THIS. Not knowing. Not knowing was what drove Drake out of her mind.

She ran all of the possibilities in her head, over and over again. No capture specialist Hypergeek? She wasn't exactly close to him, but she respected the man. His loss would be sorely missed in the outfit. No Congo Hunterhr? The reliable, intellectual medic who had given up his uniform to do volunteer humanitarian aid work in the worst corners of the world. The man who was probably the single best human being in the outfit.

No big man Medve? Drake had served alongside the captain since day one. They had gone through the hell that was Frag's last operation together; they had fought side-by-side on the landed abductor as the chryssalids had swarmed them; he had held her back as Drake had gone insane with sorrow as Foogleman had fallen. Their lovable captain, so dedicated to his work and the well-being of his operatives.

No baby Renzol, all grown up now? The frail girl who had been absolutely devastated by Frag's death was nowhere to be seen now as the rocketeer had become the top soldier in the outfit. Her rigorous training had paid off, and Drake wouldn't have anyone else covering her back with explosives, as much as she couldn't tell that to Orgun. _In a way, I think she died that day on the transport ship. _The thought of her falling on another one was insulting in its irony.

No family man Kungtotte? Her beloved roommate, always courteous and the gentleman. They had shared many laughs and heartfelt talks about their pasts, and of Kungtotte's wife and daughter back home. Thinking about them getting the news without even a body to bury was almost enough to bring Drake to tears. _He's a good man. They always fall first._

No _El Zorro_? Scubaman was a rascal and a pain, but also the most lovable rapscallion Drake had ever known. The laughs and jests shared together were innumerable, and their R&R in Nagoya still glowed warm in Drake's memory. The man had a personality and a half, and still some left over for others. Losing him would leave a gaping hole in the outfit, as well as her heart.

And the last one. No Kilroy. Drake brought a hand up to her eyes as she tensed her body, holding the anguish at bay. Ever since the beginning of the conflict, they had hit it off as roommates. Once they'd both been assigned to the assault training program, the fun had really begun. The rambunctious, no-shits given attitude of the thirty-three year old brunette complimented Drake's more modest and held-back demeanor perfectly. Kilroy was always dragging her off on some new wild adventure, and Drake loved every one of them. She had never had a sister; but now she knew what she had been missing all these years.

_Oh God, Shiva, Brahma and every one of you assholes up there, don't take her from me. Not her. _Clenching her teeth together, Drake gripped at her head. The clang of the hangar bay doors above brought her back to the moment as she jerked to an upright position. The female voice on the PA system announced for all personnel to stand clear of the landing pad, and only the hand of Orgun on her shoulder held Drake from jumping off.

The aircraft descended, and the time it took for it to reach the landing pad had never seemed so long to Drake. Holding her breath, she stared at the craft with wide eyes. She couldn't breathe. As the Skyranger's wheels finally touched the landing pad, Orgun lifted his hand from her shoulder and Drake was away, vaulting off the rail.

The ramp begun to lower, and Drake stared with keen eyes. Hitting the ground, she fell forwards in a small tumble. Never stopping her movement, she dashed towards the Skyranger, eyes glued on the lowering ramp. Coming to a halt by the landing pad, she felt a sickening twist in the pit of her stomach. The wait would soon be over, and she would know. For better or for worse. The ramp crashed onto the hangar bay floor, and Drake bathed in the fluorescent lights from inside. Then everything broke into action.

It all came rushing at her as if in slow motion. The paramedics wheeling out Kungtotte, an oxygen mask on the sniper's face and life support machinery beeping frantically. A second set of paramedics bringing out Scubaman. The Latino sported a horrific gash across his chest, festering with pus and reeking acrid vapors everywhere. He was positively screaming a litany of curses in a mixture of English and Spanish, no doubt making Mother Mary pale somewhere in the heavens.

Behind them, Medve limped down the ramp, supported by the tiny frame of Renzol. Hypergeek and Hunterhr had their arms slung over each other's shoulders, with Daishi leaning in-between them from behind, smiling widely as she wrapped her arms around the two men. Drake felt a panic rise in her mind as her eyes searched the Skyranger for its final inhabitant.

From behind all of them, a true sight for sore eyes emerged. Covered in blood, vomit, goo, plasma burns and outsider remnants, a screaming, flailing, and without-a-doubt living human missile charged Drake.

Kilroy launched herself from the Skyranger ramp, striking Drake mid-air and straight in the chest. Screaming wildly, Drake tried to maintain her balance. Failing spectacularly, the two of them ended up in a sprawl of female assault on the hangar bay floor. Kilroy was screaming, Drake was screaming. Kilroy was laughing, Drake was laughing. Winning the no-contest wrestling match, Kilroy rose to her knees astride Drake and pumped her fists in the air, throwing her head backwards.

"NO FATALITIES BABY!" special operative Kilroy yelled, and the hangar bay responded with an explosion of cheers, applause and laughter. Feeling the stress finally leave her body, Drake let herself go limp as she laid her head down on the hangar bay floor. Kilroy grinned down at her, and Drake took in the scenery around the hall.

Renzol was squeezed in-between Cell and Medve as the South African greeted her friends. DSM was shuffling down the stairs, with Vherid already grabbing Daishi into an embrace. Orgun was walking down the stairs with a smile, looking at Drake and Kilroy. And all around her, the cheers and laughter of the XCOM personnel filled the hangar bay.

It was a good day to be alive.

* * *

><p>Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who has joined in for the ride over the last month and a half. With this chapter, Alive and Impossible breaks 100 000 words (whaaaa-) and total views have hit 45k some time ago. Whether you're a story follower on the site, a regular reviewer or just someone stopping by every once in a while, I want to extend my thanks to all of you. I wouldn't be writing this if it wasn't for you reading.<p>

As I hit this chapter that started it all as a simple youtube comment, the time for change has come. I won't go into detail here, but expect less frequent uploads as I drop the chapter-per-episode format and try to go for longer, better and more cohesive stories. If you want details, check out the blog I posted over at vesmolol()tumblr()com

Once again, thanks for reading, and see you around the base on future installments of Alive and Impossible!

-vesmo


	53. Chapter 53: Day as a Dumpling

Chapter 53: Day as a Dumpling

Episodes 52-54

Author's note: No, you didn't miss chapter 52. Chapter 10.5 screwed up the numbering of how the site keeps track of chapters, so I'm correcting for that now seeing how the youtube episode numbers won't be matching the chapter numbers anyway.

* * *

><p>It was another restless night for Captain Awo as he tossed and turned in his bunk. His room in the officer's quarters was chilly, but that didn't stop the sheets from bunching up around him in a sweaty, tangled mess as he looked for a more comfortable position. The beeping of the alarm clock came all too soon as he was stirred awake from his nightmare.<p>

The dream had been the same every night for a while now. He would be doing endless paperwork in his office when suddenly, the whole outfit would be in the small room with him. He was supposed to be giving a shooting presentation, but all he had was a stack of papers in hand, sitting on his chair stark naked. Merlin and the rest of the women would leer at him, and the commander would just shake his head as he ordered Awo out on an operation. He would lead the sniggering squad of people out just like that, naked as the day he had been born to this world.

Getting up to a sitting position with a groan, Awo buried his face in his hands. _Every day with this shit in my life, _the man thought to himself despondently. Taking a moment, he swayed on the edge of his bed. The desire to say fuck it all and dive back into the sheets crossed his mind, but it was ultimately futile. Sleep was hard enough to come by anyway.

With Captain Medve and Lieutenant Scubaman out injured, the remaining officers in the outfit had their work cut out for them. Awo was constantly amazed by how easily Lieutenant Van Doorn managed his doubled workload. The man had been a UN general and of course possessed immense amounts of experience, but that still didn't stop the feelings of jealousy and astonishment from rearing their ugly heads.

_Just make him the captain. I'd gladly be an NCO again, _Awo mused as he got on with his morning routine. Push-ups, stretching and shower followed each other as the exercise and cool water eventually shook most of the melancholy off. The officer's break room was silent and empty as Van Doorn was no doubt raking in the remaining sweet, sweet minutes of sleep there were left in the morning. Wondering to himself how the old man managed everything with how long he slept and how much he seemed to lounge around every day, Awo cooked up a breakfast for himself.

It was a big day indeed. Awo was on duty, but that didn't stop the brass from piling job after job on him. Normally he would've been off training duties, but the higher-ups still hadn't managed to sort out the gaps in schedule left by Medve's and Scubaman's injuries. The morning was dominated by advanced overwatch training for the lower ranking infantrymen while the afternoon was capped off by laser rifle handling for junior operatives, one of the classes that used to belong to Scubaman. But it was the time after lunch between those training sessions that made the day special.

The newly engineered carapace armor would be taken into active duty today and the senior operatives would be giving a presentation on the equipment's capabilities. As to why they had assigned Awo to it, he couldn't tell. He wanted to think positively of it, that it was a nod to his skills and that's why he had been chosen for the shooting presentation. But with his already busy schedule, it just seemed like a pain in the ass.

_I'm in charge of the training that follows, too. Fucking hell. _He had already chosen the trainers out of the NCO's, but he still had to organize everything, manage the paperwork and handle the stress. Silently praying there would be an operation today to get his mind off things, Awo cleaned up in the kitchenette of the break room before getting on with the morning's schedule.

The training advanced smoothly as he guided Volatile, Jive and even the recently recovered Ratamacue through the exercises. There was a lot of room for improvement, but Volatile was definitely showing a lot of promise. Her recent promotion to sergeant had been well deserved.

As morning turned to noon, Awo sent the trainees out with curt words of encouragement. Dropping his training gear off, he made his way to the cafeteria to grab some lunch before the carapace presentation. The paramilitary outfit's eating schedule was quite free form; there was no room-by-room organization to the process, but rather a set time range when one could get lunch and dinner. Lunchtime was from 11 am to 1 pm, and Awo had ended the exercise early in hopes of getting a quiet meal in before the rush hour.

The cafeteria was indeed mostly empty, with only a few operatives sitting at the long tables. Grabbing a tray, Awo went along the line at the counter, piling a hefty amount of mashed potatoes and pork stew on his plate. With his lunch gathered, he walked to the corner of the large room, hoping to avoid any unnecessary socialization.

Halfway through his meal, Awo spotted Drake enter the cafeteria. The assault quickly filled her tray up and headed straight for Awo's corner in a brisk pace. The captain let out a groan as he suspected what the woman's business with him was.

"Heya, Dumpling", Drake spoke her greeting as she sat down across the table from him. The nickname was courtesy of Merlin, and one that Awo didn't take too kindly to. For Drake to be using it intentionally spoke volumes of her displeasure with him.

Looking up from his meal, Awo muttered a half-hearted greeting in response. He wasn't looking forward to the conversation at all. Things had been difficult with his old room to say the least, ever since the falling out with Merlin at the shooting range.

Drake leaned over without touching her food, getting straight to the point. "You haven't been visiting Kilroy or Medve." Her voice was sharp and judging, and Awo groaned as his suspicions were proven correct.

"It's just… I've been busy. You have no idea of the workload I'm under!" The response had seemed completely reasonable and absolutely, one hundred percent true in his mind, but as it left his lips Awo realized just how feeble and defensive it sounded. Drake regarded him with a doubtful look, clearly not convinced.

"Is it because of Merlin?" Awo groaned again as Drake hit the nail on the head. The two women had been visiting Kilroy every evening and Awo had made a point of not going. It just seemed easier to avoid the hot-headed Mexican instead of running into her in what could be a ballistic encounter in a place that absolutely didn't need the commotion.

Awo didn't even know where the whole mess with Merlin had come from. They'd gotten along great in the early months of the conflict. The ribbing had been there, sure, but Awo had taken it like a man and even delivered some of his own. They'd always had a blast during the drills as they came through the infantry training program alongside Frag, and the inhabitants of room A had lived in peace.

Now that Awo thought about it, the change had begun around the time Foogleman had died. Merlin had started smoking again, and the woman seemed to be on edge all of the time. As time had passed, her good-natured ribbing had turned into something resembling more domestic abuse than anything else. Things had gotten to the point where Awo had actually started to wonder whether the woman was a real-life sadist. And the way he had taken it all without putting up a fight for the longest time probably made him the masochist.

"Houston to Awo, come in?" Drake's slightly amused inquiry brought him back to the moment. There was little use to pretending the woman hadn't been right anymore and Awo responded with a sigh.

"What do you want, Drake?" he asked in a defeated tone, shoveling a good amount of mashed potatoes and pork into his mouth. His appetite seemed to have disappeared into the ether. _So much for a quiet and peaceful lunch._

Drake leaned back and started buttering her sandwich. "Kungtotte's getting out of the ICU today. It's about time you paid your comrades a visit. Your FRIENDS a visit." Drake's voice was uncharacteristically hard as she glanced up from the task at hand, continuing the quite one-sided conversation, "I'll tell Merlin to behave herself if that's what it takes."

Awo groaned for the third time, feeling like a little kid being lectured by his mother. "It's not… that's not… you don't need to…" his response died down as he stumbled over the words. Conceding defeat and swallowing his pride, Awo lifted his arms up. "Fine! I'm coming. Right after the day's training."

"Kungtotte's getting out at 1800 hours", Drake informed him, her voice softer now with a tint of amusement to it.

Awo exclaimed in frustration, throwing his arms wider. "1800 hours, okay! I'm coming to the medbay at 1800 hours to see Kilroy, Medve and Kungtotte. Is that what you want to hear?"

Drake let out a heartfelt laugh, causing a tiny smile to rise to Awo's lips. She was quite probably the glue holding their old room together, and Awo couldn't be mad at her for doing that.

Getting on with their lunch, the two friends exchanged pleasantries. It really had been quite some time since Awo had socialized with his friends and chatting with Drake was a breath of fresh air in his busy life. He shared some stories of Van Doorn's exploits in the officer's quarters, and Drake spoke of her feelings on the upcoming covert operation. She would be deploying tonight, though to where, she couldn't tell. The details of the covert operations were kept a secret from everyone who didn't need to know. It was all very cloak and daggers and quite frankly, made Awo feel uncomfortable. He couldn't believe they were fighting human beings amidst the alien war. As a former police officer, he had seen a lot of fucked up shit in the past. But this whole business with EXALT was beyond fucked up.

With lunch done, Awo bid Drake good-bye as the captain headed towards his office to get some paperwork done before the business with the carapace armor presentation. It was a cramped little box at the end of the officer's quarters with a considerable stack of papers sitting on the desk.

_I better get some coffee if I'm to do this_, he thought to himself as the pile of black-on-white taunted him. The good spirits from meeting with Drake were already fading away as Awo headed for the officer's break room.

* * *

><p>"Operatives of XCOM, it is my pleasure to present to you the newest in our battlefield personal defense systems; the carapace armor!"<p>

Quartermaster Ryder stepped to the side, letting the people in the cavern feast their eyes on the piece of armor standing in a display case of safety glass as the curtains pulled away. Murmurs filled the air as the crowd shuffled about, everyone trying to get a good look at the new piece of gear.

"This is fucking ridiculous", Awo complained behind the screens towards the back of the cave. He was wearing the new armor alongside Daishi, Drake, Morgan and Renzol. Daishi and Morgan tittered at the man's comment while Drake shook her head disapprovingly.

"It's good for the morale, captain", the senior assault mused with a grin, drawing only a scoff out of Awo. Peeking out from behind the screen, Awo looked on at the clown show.

They were currently in the midst of showing off the armor's damage threshold. A high-powered laser was trained at the alloy suit as the red beam of energy left scorch marks along its surface. Quartermaster Ryder was a perky little Japanese woman and her voice carried clear in the air as she explained the new suit's capabilities.

"The new suits can take over twice the amount of abuse as your standard issue kevlar vests and flak jackets. It is especially tempered to handle the burns of plasma-based weaponry that have proven to be such a huge problem for conventional armor systems." The woman paused for a moment as the operatives marveled at the undamaged suit of armor as the laser easily ripped through one of the standard issue flak jackets next to it.

Continuing her explanation, the Quartermaster's voice was sharp, "However, this doesn't mean you can just run out there and facecheck a muton's plasma rifle. As always, exercise extreme caution on the field. Carapace armor is capable of saving your life, but it doesn't make you indestructible. This concludes the first part of our presentation."

"Now I've been told there have been a lot of concerns over the impact these heavier armor systems are going to have over your capability to perform basic battlefield actions." The Quartermaster's words were followed by mumbles and nods of agreement. JBowles had been one of the main skeptics when it came to the carapace armor; he was convinced it would get in the way when firing rockets.

Pacing across the glass cage, Quartermaster Ryder came to a halt in front of the obstacle course next to it. It was an exact replica of the one in the training center and one had to wonder just how much time and resources had been wasted in recreating it down here. The course ran from the front of the crowd to the back of the cavern before looping back, featuring walls, hurdles and monkey bars. All of the usual suspects.

"Technical Sergeant Daishi will be giving you a presentation on the overall impact carapace will have on your mobility on the field", the quartermaster spoke in a bright tone, summoning Daishi from behind the screen. The scout was smiling widely as she strode over to the front of the crowd, throwing up a salute for both the crowd and the quartermaster. Taking her place at the front of the course, she braced herself for the exercise.

"Ready, set, go!" Ryder's words sent Daishi away as she made her way through the obstacle course. Sliding down low on all fours, she scampered under and vaulted over the hurdles. The operatives muttered in surprised tones as the scout flew across the course, scaling the walls quickly and swinging across the monkey bars with ease.

As Daishi hit the finish line at the front of the crowd, Quartermaster Ryder checked her stopwatch and let out a small laugh. "Minute forty-two. Beat your old record by two seconds, tech sergeant." The quartermaster's words caused the surprised mutters to intensify, some people in the crowd exclaiming in disbelief.

"Hardly broke a sweat!" Daishi yelled triumphantly, panting hard as she caught her breath from the exercise.

Ryder turned back towards the crowd, grinning at the confused operatives. With a glimmer in her eye, she revealed the secret to Daishi's feat, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I forget to tell you people that a suit of carapace is 0.5 kilograms lighter than our standard issue kevlar vests and flak jackets?"

The quartermaster's words sparked a massive uproar of denials and exclamations of surprise from the crowd. "You're shittin' me! You're absolutely shittin' me!" JBowles cried out as the crowd's surprise and disbelief turned into cheers and laughter. The quartermaster was grinning widely with a sparkle of laughter twinkling in her eyes. Holding her notepad to her uniformed chest, she waited for the crowd's reaction to die down.

"Sorry, should've led with that. My bad", she muttered, thoroughly pleased with herself. Turning to the next attraction, she led the group of operatives to the fighting ring that had been set up on the cavern floor. Raising her voice, she summoned Technical Sergeant Drake and Sergeant Morgan for the martial arts presentation.

The two assaults were wearing tactical vests over the armor itself, and their legs were covered by padded plating that allowed them to move freely despite the protective sheets of alien alloys. The fight was ceremonial for the most part; pure effectiveness and the usual cut-throat behavior of close combat training were replaced by fancy roundhouse kicks and showboating. The fight intensified towards the end, with Drake dashing in under Morgan's guard and throwing the former marine to the ground.

Awo watched on from his place behind the screen as the fight between the two assaults drew to a close. He was anxious to get out there and play his part in this farce already. As Quartermaster Ryder called upon him for the shooting presentation, Awo strode out briskly to the shooting range set up at the edge of the cavern.

Taking his place in front of the crowd, Awo returned the operatives' salute with a hasty one of his own. Without further ceremonies he turned towards the range, standing astride in front of the table with his laser rifle raised.

The targets sprung up one by one and precise shots from his rifle burned holes into their chests, dropping them back into the ground. The moving targets at the back had no better luck against the captain. As he reached for another energy cell on the table, Awo realized just how much pent-up aggression had built up inside of him over the past weeks. Slamming the cell into his weapon, he raised the stakes.

The next target fell with a hole burnt into its head as did the next one, and the next one. Gritting his teeth, Awo lost himself in the flow as he nailed every single target with perfect accuracy. Slamming home another energy cell, he jerked the muzzle of the rifle around as he waited for the next target to come up.

"Ummm, Captain Awo? That's the end of the presentation, sir", Ryder spoke tentatively, causing Awo to come back to the moment. Emptying his weapon, he powered down the laser rifle and turned towards the quartermaster, giving her and the crowd the slightest of nods.

"Check in at my office after Renzol's presentation for your training schedules. Now if you'll all excuse me, I have a shit load of work to get to." Without further ado, Awo strode through the crowd of operatives as he left the cavern. He glimpsed a concerned Drake on the edge of the crowd, and a mocking Merlin whispering something to one of the junior operatives. Shaking his head, Awo pushed through the gap in the blast doors and into the metallic corridors of the base.

Dropping off his carapace armor and laser rifle at the arsenal, Awo hurried once more into his office as he prepared for the flood of operatives that would be coming in soon enough. Wondering once again what he had done to deserve this fate, he got on with the paperwork.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly as Captain Awo had no time to stop and wonder 'why me'. Pavehawk, Panzerskank, Amineri, Petete and Prowler with Hypergeek. Wootastic, Volatile, Jive, JBowles and AlexD with Renzol. The list went on as the operatives filed into his office and the coffee mug drained itself all too quickly. And as soon as the schedules were all distributed and the first set of questions by the instructors sorted out, it was already time for the next class.

Teaching a set of rookies how to handle a laser rifle wasn't exactly Awo's idea of a task worthy of a captain. As he eyed the set of people before him, he had a growing suspicion as to why Scubaman had wanted to teach the class in the first place. Amineri, Panzerskank, Cameron, DoctorSheep. A lot of female operatives in the new batch of rookies. A lot of _cute_ female operatives, with the Brazilian vision Amineri especially catching Awo's eye. The whole thing reeked of Scubaman's lechery, and Awo made a mental note to discuss the possibility of delegating the class away to someone else with the brass later.

The drill dragged on as Awo had been late to begin the exercise in the first place. With the rookies finally sent off to dinner, the captain groaned as he realized it was already almost 1800 hours. Heading off to the cafeteria to grab a quick dinner before the promised meeting in the medbay, Awo wondered how he would ever get all of the work done.

The thought of another late night in the office followed by restless sleep drove the captain's mood into the pits. _All I need is one night. Just one goddamn night without work,_ Awo thought to himself, utterly discouraged.

_Get it together. No fucking way I'm giving Merlin the satisfaction of seeing me a shitty fucking mess like this._ Trying to motivate himself, Awo hurriedly chomped down his dinner before heading straight for the medbay.

Sliding the glass door aside, Awo's senses were assaulted by the smell of disinfectants and the bright lights of fluorescent lamps. Burncycle lay in a bed at the far end of the medbay, the scout having suffered a point-blank shot from a thin man earlier this week. Wolfer was nowhere to be seen, leaving Kilroy and Medve the only other patients currently in the room.

"Hey you big pile of shit! Why haven't you brought me chocolate already?" Kilroy's good-spirited shout drew a smile to Awo's lips as he headed for the assault's bedside. Merlin and Drake were standing on the other side of her bed as the injured woman struggled to an upright position against the pillows. The EKG on her bedside was beeping in sync with Medve's, and a drip hanging from its rack steadily injected plasma and medicinal fluids into her system.

Awo nodded his greeting at Medve as he strode past the man's bed, coming to a halt in-between the two operatives' resting places. Grinning at the resilient woman, Awo responded in kind, "No chocolate for your fat ass. I've been busy."

Kilroy gave a snort of contempt before the mischievous glimmer in her eye was replaced with a look of affection. Raising her fist up to Awo, the captain and gunnery sergeant touched knuckles. "It's good to see your sorry ass every once in a while", Kilroy muttered, the edge from her words gone for the moment.

As they waited for Kungtotte's delayed discharge from the ICU, Awo was glad Drake had convinced him to come. Catching up with Kilroy and Medve on the troop ship mission and sharing some of the news from the officer's quarters made the time fly by quickly. Even Merlin seemed to behave herself, though it was more due to her silent sulking and complete avoidance of Awo rather than any real discretion.

After fifteen minutes or so the doors to the ICU swung open as a nurse strode in, pushing Kungtotte's bed ahead of her. Applause and cheers from the small group of operatives filled the medbay as the wounded sniper grinned at his friends. His EKG was beeping steadily and combined with the drip and nasal cannula, he looked like a real mess. Kilroy and co. let him know as much, and the reserved sniper took the friendly ribbing in stride, smiling and laughing quietly at the banter.

Setting the man's bed next to Kilroy's, the nurse playfully reprimanded the soldiers, instructing them not to be too hard on the recovering man. Drake assured her they would behave themselves, drawing an amused look from the nurse.

"Just make sure you don't break anything, Drake." Her words incited laughs from the operatives as Drake took the gibe gracefully. She had spent a lot of time in the medbay and had become familiar with the medical personnel. Her little outburst from her fourth and currently last stint in had become somewhat of a legend, and the nurses and doctors liked to remind her of it every once in a while.

Merlin and Drake brought Kungtotte up to speed on the goings-on in the base as the denizens of room A were finally reunited. Scubaman would still be held in the ICU for an undetermined amount of time; the man's wound had refused to close and would still require multiple gene therapy sessions.

A grin spread on Drake's face as she exchanged a look with Merlin. With a small cough, she took the attention of the rest of the group. "Well, seeing as you'll be spending quite a bit of time here, we thought you should have something to keep you company", Drake's voice brimmed with excitement as she leaned down to grab the paper bag on the floor. From within, she produced a jar of Thin Mint cookies and a stack of letters.

"You seemed to be running a bit low, so we got you a new jar all the way back from the States", Drake explained with a smile, handing the jar and letters to Kungtotte. The sniper smiled at the gesture, accepting the stack of letters from home with gentle hands.

Turning to look at his smiling friends, Kungtotte spoke in a soft voice, "Thank you, everyone. Drake, Merlin, Awo. Thank you."

Merlin fidgeted around a little, glancing at the wall from under her brow. In a disgruntled tone, she muttered, "Actually, he didn't have anything-", her complaint was cut short by a pained grunt as Drake shoved an elbow into her side.

"You're welcome, Thinmint. It's the least we could do", Drake beamed at the man, ignoring the foul look Merlin was giving her.

Awo watched on with amusement. He didn't really care either way whether he got credit for the small gesture or not, but seeing Merlin squirm was always welcome.

The PA system on the wall came to life with a ding, followed by the female voice of the announcer, "Strike-1, report to the operation room. Code 3-B. Repeat, Strike-1, report to the operation room. Code 3-B."

The people in the room had turned to regard the speaker on the wall and as the announcement died down, all eyes turned to Awo. The captain gave his chin a little rub as he pondered on the announcement. _3-B, huh. Landed medium?_

Grinning as he regarded the other operatives in the medbay, Awo informed them in a smug voice, "I told you I'm a busy man, didn't I? See you later." Turning around, he strode out of the room, an excitement building up inside of him.

_Post-op drinks and mandatory days off, here I come!_ Awo let out a small laugh as he headed towards the operation room for briefing; maybe he would finally catch a break.

* * *

><p>The Skyranger took off into the night sky, drowning out the stars and the moon as its figure passed under them. Eight dark shadows spread out into the forest, the faint red glow of their laser weaponry the only light below the canopy of the forest.<p>

Awo looked through the night vision visor of his new carapace helmet. The shadows of the forest were displayed in shades of grainy green, and it wasn't long after their landing when movement in the shadows caught his eye.

"Contact!" the captain yelled his warning as the seekers on patrol approached the site of the landing. Awo's vision flashed a brilliant white as one of the seeker's fired, drawing a surprised grunt from Instinct. The response from Strike-1 was immediate; red lasers cut apart the dark veil of the night followed by an explosion of pure green energy as Hypergeek unleashed one of his alien grenades upon the enemy.

_One,_ the captain kept count in his head. Two hits out of three; not bad considering the evasive nature of the seeker. Signaling to his squad, Awo quickly led them across the trench to their left and into the dense forest beyond. The UFO had landed over the hill before them, and he would much rather approach the alien craft under the cover of the forest than along the trench, under the light of the moon and the stars. As the squad reached a satisfactory defensive position, Awo ordered them to a stop as Hunterhr tended to Instinct.

Daishi moved up behind one of the large spruces. Tossing a BattleScanner out, the scout surveyed the ground in front of them. Cell and Renzol set up behind one of the overturned logs as Iku looked for a good spot at the squad's rear. The night was eerily calm as Awo enjoyed the cool Canadian air on his cheeks and neck. He would take this over the paperwork any day.

"How is he?" the captain inquired as Hunterhr joined up with him. Instinct was already on his way to join Daishi in the vanguard.

"Impact didn't break the armor. I sprayed some ointment into the bruise below, patched up the burnt alloys with emergency hardener. Should be fine", the medic spoke matter-of-factly. Awo nodded his approval and joined Daishi and Instinct at the front.

Leading his squad on, Awo listened intently for any chitter on the wind, rustles in the leaves. The forest was quiet, almost too quiet. _All contact inside the UFO? _The captain mused to himself as he led the squad up to the top of the hill.

The otherworldly glow of the alien craft's doorways and force fields shed light on the surrounding terrain. Pine trees and spruces reached for the skies around the landing site, with some of the tree tops and larger branches having snapped off as the UFO came down in the middle of the forest. The ship was located across a deep trench from Strike-1's current location. Signaling for his people to take position on the hill, Awo waited for the enemy to show up.

The enemy never came. The craft seemed almost abandoned as the low humming of its machinery filled the chilly night air. Taking Daishi's attention, Awo gestured for her to dash across the trench and scout up ahead. The tall blonde acknowledged the order, taking off from behind her log with scatter laser raised.

Daishi scampered down the hillside, her combat boots sending small pebbles rolling down into the trench. As she reached the crack in earth between the hills, she crouched down and hurriedly made her way to the left along the ravine, away from the main door of the UFO. Climbing up on the other side, the scout pressed herself up against the dirt wall, peeking out to survey the alien craft from close range. Turning back towards Awo, she signaled the coast was clear.

"Renzol, Iku, cover us from here. If we make it across without contact, follow after. Rest of you, form up on me. We're closing in." Awo's words were confident as the squad clad in their new alloy armor followed him down the hillside, sliding and scrambling for foothold. Dashing across the trench, they reunited with Daishi right next to the UFO.

The squad climbed over the bank of dirt as they took cover on the trees mere meters from the force field covering the corner of the alien craft. Daishi snuck her way left, crouched behind the small trees and bushes of the undergrowth while Renzol and Hypergeek headed for the main door on the right. Awo hit a button on the side of his helmet, and the night vision visor receded back into the headpiece. The glow of the UFO's force field provided more than enough illumination.

Strike-1 burst into action as Daishi yelled her warning from their left. A solitary outsider stepped into the narrow doorway behind the force field. Not giving the alien a chance to fire its carbine, the combined laser arms of Earth's finest released a veritable barrage of high energy at the doorway. The pilot of the ship recoiled from the searing impacts, taking cover behind the wall as Cell's autolaser spewed suppressive fire towards it.

"Move up! Breach the craft!" Awo yelled, causing the squad to break from their cover. Cell stepped out from behind her tree, steadily walking towards the doorway while continuing to pin the enemy down. Daishi and Instinct moved up on either side of the opening, scatter lasers readied. As soon as the suppressive fire died down, they dashed inside.

On the right, Renzol had moved up to the main door with Hypergeek right behind her. Awo headed towards the pair of operatives as Instinct's shout carried over from the UFO; Dorito down. _Aren't there two of these things on mediums? _Awo thought to himself, slightly concerned as he reached the other breaching team.

Inside the UFO, things were heating up. Instinct cursed loudly as a seeker darted in from the shadows, releasing sizzling hot plasma at the assault from close-range, throwing him against the wall. Struggling to an upright position, the man recoiled as a barrage from Cell's autolaser punched past him, scorching the mechanical flier to a husk.

"They're there! Shredder to the middle!" Hypergeek yelled as he held the BattleScanner around the corner of the main doorway. Renzol slammed in a shredder rocket as she breached danger close; everyone inside the UFO ducked their heads down behind whatever cover they had as the rocket launcher let out its signature blast. Shrapnel filled the entry hall of the alien craft as two seekers materialized out of thin air, smoke and sparks filling the air around them.

Daishi and Instinct pushed in from the corridor on the left, charging at the aliens with scatter lasers held high. Two blasts of high energy, two destroyed seekers. A warning rang through the interior of the ship as another seeker squirmed in from the shadows, drawing a surprised yelp out of Daishi as the plasma buried into her shoulder. The scout responded in kind, and another squid dropped from the air.

Renzol finally shouldered her launcher and ran across the main doorway of the UFO, making space for Awo. Taking the corner, the captain peeked inside. A solitary drone came flying in from the corridor to the right, its maintenance beam glancing harmlessly over Instinct's carapace. The robot crashed and burned as Cell spun up her weapon on the left, and the battle seemed to be over.

A solitary sectoid peeked out from around the corner down the hallway to the right, sending a tentative blast of green energy towards the breaching squad. Awo brought his rifle on target as he glanced the small gray man, causing it to recoil away from his sights. Right after, the little alien bolted across the doorway, seeking sanctuary in the middle of the ship. _Two down,_ Captain Awo thought to himself as he found his mark.

"Secure the left! There's still one outsider left!" Awo ordered as the rest of the squad pushed into the UFO. Daishi and Cell headed to secure the doorway on the left while Awo led Hypergeek and Instinct down the right.

Slamming the button on the side of the door, Daishi caused the energy field to recede. A yell of surprise left her lips as plasma fire from inside the power wing of the alien craft greeted the two women, burying solidly into Cell's stomach, yet unable to penetrate the carapace armor. The gunner grunted in surprise, pulling the throttle on her autolaser.

The barrage of lasers crashed into the outsider, rising high in the glow of the elerium power source. The last of the lasers skimmed the edge of the ceiling as Daishi attempted to finish the creature off.

"You're fucking kidding me!" Cell cried in dismay as the scout fired her scatter laser at the creature, striking only the alloy wall next to it. Just as the alien was about to bring down another hail of energy on the gunner, a singular laser fizzed past the women, burying into the outsider and exploding it into dust and shrapnel.

Iku was standing in the entry hall of the UFO, sniper rifle raised and a thoroughly self-satisfied grin on his face. "Come on, you can thank me later", the man muttered as he ran up to the female operatives, signaling for them to take point.

On the other side, Awo was leading the battle against the gray defenders of the UFO. One of them lay in a collapsed heap on the power room floor, courtesy of Instinct. Another one dashed into the XCOM-held room, only to end up in the same pile as Awo buried a laser into its cranium. _That's three._

"Denizens of the UFO! This is Officer Awo of XCOM. Come out with your hands raised above your head, and nobody needs to get hurt!" Wild laughter bubbled under the surface as Awo knew the battle was drawing to a close. It looked like he would indeed get some respite after all.

A sectoid came running through the doorway into the power room, almost like it knew what the captain was saying. The alien was driven on by laser fire from across the control room and Awo quickly shouted the order to hold fire as he signaled for Hypergeek to move in. The engineer jumped up, bringing the arc thrower to bear on the fleeing alien.

_Fuck me the electricity,_ a panicked thought flashed to Awo's mind as the sectoid moved towards the glowing elerium power source. Hypergeek took aim and tendrils of high-voltage electricity shot out of the taser, past the power source and into the little gray man's body. The sectoid whimpered and spasmed as it collapsed next to the volatile energy source, the green glow of elerium illuminating its twitching eyelids.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Awo moved up against the wall of the control room. Giving Instinct the signal, the assault tossed a flashbang in through the doorway. The flash soon followed, and the squad stormed in.

"Put the gun down!" The police officer in him came to life as Awo pointed his rifle at the solitary sectoid huddled against the wall. A laser from Instinct's pistol glanced the alien in its arm, drawing a pitiful squeal out of the small humanoid. "Show me your hands!" Officer Awo yelled as he loomed over the creature, a circle forming around the alien.

A jolt of electricity ran through the air and into the small alien, causing it to flinch into the corner. Hypergeek let out a cuss as he fiddled with the arc thrower, setting the dials for a new capture attempt. "What the hell are you doing, Whiskey? Take him down, he's a threat. Do it now, officer!" Awo's voice was stern and hard as he gave the orders, but under the surface he was having the time of his life.

The engineer brought the arc thrower on target once again as the sectoid stole a glimpse at its assaulters. Electricity shot into the creature once again, drawing a whimper out of the small alien before the spark died down.

"_Merde!_ She's out of juice, captain!" the engineer informed, drawing groans and cusses from the operatives circling the sectoid.

Awo brought the muzzle of his laser rifle down on the head of the creature. "Get down on the floor! GET DOWN RIGHT NOW!" the alien complied, sinking onto the floor of the craft with its limbs spread. Quiet, wet rattling noises left its throat as it breathed heavily on the ground.

Captain Awo straightened his back, taking a glance around the squad. Daishi was looking at the sectoid with eyes one might give a wounded puppy, and many others were shuffling their feet uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. Turning to Hypergeek, Awo gave the man an intense stare, "What do you mean, she's out of juice?"

Hypergeek gave a small gesture with his hand, not taking his eyes off the sectoid huddled on the ground. "She needs to be recharged, captain. I didn't bring an extra battery."

Awo groaned in frustration, turning back to look at the sectoid. The little gray man's eyes were fixed on the ground as it breathed heavily. They jerked for a moment, and Awo knew he had just met its gaze despite the lack of pupils on the small creature.

"Keep an eye on him!" Awo ordered as he strode away from the squad, bringing a hand up to the communication device on his helmet. Contacting central, he waited for further orders.

The exhilaration and fun of the breach had died down, replaced with the all too familiar frustration. Listening to the orders, Awo shook his head in disbelief.

Turning back to the squad, Captain Awo strode over to Hunterhr. "Give me your sidearm, sergeant", he spoke in a cold tone. The medic regarded him with serious eyes as he complied, slipping the ballistic pistol from its holster. Accepting the weapon, Awo flicked the safety off.

A single gunshot rang inside the UFO as the sectoid's brains spilled all over the floor. Offering the weapon back to Hunterhr, Awo shook his head. "Secure the area. Renzol, you're in charge", the captain muttered as he headed outside for fresh air and debriefing.

_Four-fucking-down. Every day of my life with this shit. Every goddamn motherfucking day of my life with this goddamn shit._


	54. Chapter 54: Man in the Machine

Chapter 54: Man in the Machine

Episodes 55-56

"From death, life rises anew. From the husks of our fallen enemies, the tools of War shall be created against them."

-_Platitudes of the creatively impaired_

* * *

><p>The production line down in engineering was filled with hustle and bustle as the latest project was about to be completed. Personnel ferried over equipment for the finalization of project Goliath. HEAT ammo module, reinforced alloy belt, superheavy laser. With the last of the gear attached onto its metal frame, Goliath-1 rolled out of the production line, ready for field deployment.<p>

"Well I'll be! Ain't she just a real beaut, huh? Wanna take her for a ride?" The engineer's words rang cocky in the workshop. Another man clad in overalls and a hard hat shook his head in disapproval.

"It's not a goddamn R/C car, Babbles. It's going straight for combat testing", the second engineer replied, drawing a scoff out of his colleague.

"It's a real cryin' shame. We make all the cool stuff and it's dem damned jarheads that get to play with 'em", Babbles complained, tipping his hard hat back as he inspected the alloy SHIV.

It was a true masterpiece of engineering. The treads were strong and flexible, capable of scaling objects up to the SHIV's height. The chassis of the infantry vehicle itself was around one meter in height, made of strong and thick alien alloys allowing for a human combatant to take cover behind the machine. Remote controlled, it was the perfect mobile weapons platform to provide extra protection for the soldiers of XCOM on the field.

Babbles leaned in closer, admiring the XCOM sigil on the side and the masterful work that had gone into crafting the detachable modules and the sturdy chassis. "Man, dem grunts really should be grateful. First the 'rapace and now lil' ol' Gollie here. We be lookin' out for them, yo." The other engineer, Jacen, shook his head as he resumed working on his clipboard.

The superheavy laser attached to the alloy SHIV's firing port sparked up for a moment, a glimmer of red emanating from within the powered-down weapon. Babbles let out a cry of dismay as he stumbled backwards, the hard hat clattering off his head as the engineer fell flat on his ass.

"What? What is it?" Jacen queried, equal measures worried and amused. He regarded his colleague with suspicious eyes as the man pointed at Goliath-1, his lips trembling as he looked for the words.

"The lazer, man! The lazer turned on!" the rattled engineer babbled frantically, a shaky finger pointed at the machine.

Jacen gave his temple below the hard hat a scratch, regarding the man and the machine doubtfully. "I don't know about that. Seems fine to me", he uttered skeptically.

Babbles straightened his back on the ground, wheeling his finger around to point at his friend. "I know what I saw, man. Lazer turned on. Fuckin' Skynet up in dis bitch, tried to fry me to a crisp it did!"

Rolling his eyes, Jacen paced his way over to the alloy SHIV. Leaning in to inspect the machine closer, he checked the connections of the superheavy laser. "Everything's as it should be. Somebody from remote control is just messing with you, jackass. Or maybe there was a feedback of electricity in the circuitry", he mused, turning away from the SHIV and regarding the man still sitting on the ground.

Babbles had a distrusting look in his eyes as he got up, patting down his backside as he did so. "Whatever, man. Grunts can have it. Don't want nuthin' to do with it", he mumbled. Stuffing his hands in his overalls, Babbles shuffled away from the production line, leaving Jacen shaking his head in disbelief at his superstitious friend.

* * *

><p>"How about… XSSM-3000? Short for Xeno Scum Slaying Machine-3000!"<p>

Wootastic grinned widely as she shouted out her proposition, only to have it turned down by scoffs and snorts. The group of five operatives was gathered around the alloy SHIV in its temporary holding place in a corner of the engineering bay.

"You've got to be kidding me. What are you, ten?" Merlin laughed, causing an exaggerated pout to appear on the engineer's face. Letting out another laugh, the infantrywoman reached over and gave Wootastic's cheek a pinch, transforming the pout back into a grin. She was a hard one to get down.

JBowles was resting in one of the plastic chairs, one leg slung over the armrest. "How 'bout The Partybus? It's an XCOM party and an XCOM party don't stop!" The man's proposal was followed by a cheer from Wootastic and incredulous looks from Orgun and Merlin.

"JB, sometimes I wonder whether you have anything in that head of yours", Orgun muttered, drawing an exclamation of betrayal and feigned hurt from his fellow rocketeer. Orgun gave his chin a light tap as a smile rose to his lips. "How about FRAG-E?" he voiced his proposal, causing the light-hearted chatter to die down.

"Why not Fooglebot?" Merlin challenged the rocketeer, leaning over the back rest of the chair she was sitting astride on.

Orgun groaned in frustration. "Come on, Merlin. Don't do this. You know I loved Foogle just like I did Frag."

Merlin's face softened at the words, causing her to run a hand through her curly hair. Admitting defeat, the feisty Mexican spread her arms. "Fine, FRAG-E it is."

The operatives let out small cheers as they applauded the newly christened alloy SHIV. Orgun bowed his head down, a little bit humbled. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We still need to ask the rest of the folks", he spoke with a smile.

Merlin threw her head back and barked up a small laugh. "What, are you serious? With a name like that, even the commander will be insisting formal documentation. Well played, my jolly old pal", she complimented Orgun jovially.

The recently promoted Sergeant Petete had been quietly leaning against the wall. She was clad in her trademark dirty overalls, and her shaggy hair was pulled into a loose ponytail. Pushing herself off the wall and walking over to the machine in the middle of the group, she muttered in a low voice, "FRAG-E, huh? Should I make some modifications, then?"

The operatives gave her surprised looks. Merlin raised her eyebrows, regarding the scatterbrained engineer curiously. "What do you mean?" she asked as Petete crouched down in front of the SHIV.

"I was mostly thinking a scar here. Should be easy enough to carve one with the equipment here. Harden and temper it up so it won't wear off in plasma fire." The engineer ran her fingers over the alloys surrounding the right headlight as she spoke. Frag had sported a scar over his right eye as well; he'd said it had almost cost him his life back in the day.

The operatives exchanged glances over the tomboyish engineer before Orgun spoke up, "That'd be great! But are you sure, umm, 'modifying' official gear is such a good idea, Pete?" The engineer responded only with a dismissive snort, already planning out the work as she sized up the plating with her fingers.

"Yeah, don't be such a pussy Orgun!" Merlin shouted merrily, drawing an unimpressed look out of the rocketeer. Ignoring his reaction, the infantrywoman continued in a whiny voice, "Can I come spend the evening with you, rocket boys? I'm so lonely now that Drake's out on assignment, too."

JBowles shot Orgun a worried look, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. "Sure, you're always welcome, Merlin." Orgun's response caused his fellow roommate to let out a small groan. Merlin grinned in a sinister manner, staring right at JBowles. The man squirmed in his chair, regretful he'd been caught.

"Can I come too!?" Wootastic's eager cry drew the attention of the rest of the operatives, causing JBowles to sigh in relief as Merlin averted her gaze.

Orgun laughed at the young engineer's vigor and earnestness. "Sure, Bonus. We'll dig out a deck of cards or something. We haven't really got anything planned out but everyone's welcome", he said in a friendly tone, causing Wootastic to burst into a loud cheer.

Getting up from his chair, Orgun gave his back a good stretch. "How about you, Pete? You in?" the rocketeer inquired, receiving only a wave and an absentminded mutter in response.

The rest of the operatives got up and left, their good-byes ringing on deaf ears as Petete lost herself in her work. Laying her hands on the metal chassis, she felt the machine vibrate for a brief moment.

"How odd", she muttered to herself, getting up to look for the tools she would need.


	55. Chapter 55: Dust

Chapter 55: Dust

Episodes 57-59

The eastern Arabian winds blew up dust from the streets, sending gusts spinning amidst the sandstone buildings. Parked cars lined the sides of the road as a crowd of people made their way to and from the marketplace at the end of the street. Women with hijabs wrapped around their heads leaned from apartment windows amidst their household activities; grizzled men clad in turbans filled the streets below.

Amidst the crowd, an inconspicuous figure clad in dark, flowing clothes and a niqab made its way away from the marketplace. At the other end of the long street, a mansion with rising towers and high walls stood amidst the common buildings. Almost resembling a modest palace within the urban outskirts of Khobar, Saudi Arabia, the building was home to a not-so-secretive EXALT cell.

A pair of almond-shaped eyes regarded the streets from behind the niqab. The caramel color of the woman's skin blended in with the rest of the inhabitants of the city, concealing her true origins. Re-positioning the simple bag slung over her shoulder, the woman drew in a deep breath as she approached the mansion standing at the end of the street.

_Damn it's hot in this thing. And it's not even a full-on burqa,_ Drake mused to herself, fidgeting below the dark clothing. She wanted to reach a hand up and scratch all over her head, but restrained herself. The gates of the building loomed right before her, and she didn't want to give the enemy any reason for suspicion.

The building before her was surrounded by white walls with ornamental wooden gates swung open to the streets. Over the walls, Drake could see two towers rise high into the sky, with a dome in-between. The sub-urban Taj Mahal appeared more impressive from a distance; as she drew closer, Drake noticed cracks in the white paint, with some sections of the wall having crumbled badly from the top. Two sentries stood by the gates, clad in traditional Arabic clothing and turbans. They were holding AK-47 assault rifles and proudly wore scarves of red-and-orange around their arms.

Despite the niqab concealing all of her face but the eyes, Drake felt more naked and vulnerable than ever before. She was about to enter the belly of the beast with no weapons to protect herself; with no way of contacting her support team. She came to a halt in front of the sentries, bowing her head down and waiting to be addressed.

A stern inquiry in Arabic from one of the guards caused Drake to tense her shoulders. The man's speech slurred heavy with an accent, and the covert operative struggled to understand the words. Mumbling her response, she spoke her fake name and reached into the bag for her ID card. Offering it to the sentry without taking her eyes off the ground, Drake waited.

The man regarded her ID card for a moment before reaching for a clipboard hanging from his waist. Verifying the information, he handed the card back to Drake and signaled for her to enter. Drake uttered a quiet thank-you in response, walking into the courtyard of the mansion.

To the side, a low clay building ran along the side of the wall. It had been identified to be the barracks of the compound; another low building on the other side of the gate functioned as the canteen. A handful of people were lingering in the yard, notably none of them armed or wearing the red-and-orange scarves. Heading straight for the stairs leading up to the main building, Drake carried on with her mission.

All of XCOM's covert operatives had received specialized training in addition to their common classes. Drake had been chosen as the main operator in the Middle East and generally the Asian continent, and as such she had studied the dialects of the local hot spots. She had always had a good head for languages, and the studies had proceeded quickly. Starting from the very basics, she had rapidly expanded her knowledge of Arabic as the region had been identified as a likely area of operations. She still had trouble understanding heavy accents and hurried speech, and her own accent was far from perfect.

Scaling the small flight of stairs, Drake stepped through the curtains hanging over the doorway. A small hallway covered by an ornamental carpet continued for some meters before opening into the main hall. Dual arcing staircases rose up on either side of the hall to a second floor, with multiple doors on both levels leading into the depths of the building. The interior showed no signs of the corruption outside; the walls and floors were in pristine condition, covered by expensive carpets and tapestries. A magnificent chandelier of crystal and silver hung from the ceiling, sparkling with daylight that swarmed into the hall from a row of windows located high on the walls.

Drake marveled at the sight for a moment, taken in by the beauty one could find even amidst the lowest kind of human filth. A sharp order in Arabic brought her back to the reality of the mission, and she turned towards the checkpoint on her right. A guard beckoned for her to approach and Drake complied.

She handed her bag to another man appearing from a doorway covered by beaded curtains. The man dumped the contents of her bag on a table while the other one signaled for Drake to spread her arms out. Doing as she was told, Drake stared at the wall while the man ran his hands over her body. As his hands passed over her backside, she tensed her body. The guard was getting a little too liberal with his inspection, but there was nothing Drake could do. Clenching her teeth, she bore with it until the man pulled away.

Making a second inspection of her, the man ran an electronic device detector over her body. As the detector reported no bugs on her, the guard muttered she was cleared to enter the building. Reaching over, Drake accepted her bag from the other sentry. He couldn't have been much over twenty, and the boy gave her a truly charming smile as he handed Drake her bag. Careful to avoid eye contact, she muttered a thank-you before turning away and continuing into the hall.

Her office was located on the second floor, at the end of a corridor in the very back of the mansion. The Council's agencies had managed to breach the security of the compound by 'convincing' one of the civilian women working in the building into replacing the information regarding a new secretary with their own. The actual secretary was now being held in a safe house, and Drake was cleared to carry out her operation.

Making her way up the spiraling staircase, Drake observed the main hall. A sentry was posted to the side of each staircase, watching over the lobby. Civilians made their way across the floors to their offices and workspaces, some of them speaking on their phones, others chatting with their colleagues. Some of the men were wearing business suits while others wore traditional Arabian clothing. The women were clad in full burqas or face-covering niqabs; they were all secretaries, cleaning ladies and other household personnel.

_It's not just here, either. EXALT seems to fear or hate women. I guess Kilroy did her job too damn well,_ Drake mused to herself, a small smile rising to her lips. The people she passed by paid her no attention. _Maybe this outfit has its advantages after all._

Heading towards the back of the upper level, Drake approached a mahogany door with a guard posted on either side. Showing her ID card to the men, she waited for their approval before pushing through the splendid mahogany door and into a corridor the likes of she had never seen before.

A lush red carpet ran along the floor, and the walls were covered by boiserie paneling. The mahogany was carved into illustrious shapes and ornaments and above the paneling, an array of antiquated swords and shields were suspended on the wall. The curved blades of the scimitars ended in handles glimmering with jewels and gold, and emblazoned proudly on the shields stood the Islamic crescent and star.

Drake made her way through the hallway, taking in the sight in quiet awe. The corridor ended in a single ornamental door. Above the door, another shield was raised with two scimitars crossed behind it. On the shield, a different symbol was emblazoned. A minimalist red eye in the shape of a crescent. Passing under the symbol of the enemy, Drake drew in a deep breath as she entered her office.

_Damn, it's a little better than my bunk back in the 'rax, don't you think? _A lavish carpet of deep crimson covered the floor of the room. To the left, a reasonably sized desk stood some distance from the wall. Behind it, a massive banner with EXALT's insignia embroidered on it covered the wall. A bookcase filled with binders and files stood on the opposite wall, and between them a single door led into the leader's office. The walls were now completely covered in wooden paneling, everything the deep, thick tones of expensive mahogany.

Drake walked over to the desk, laying down her bag with slightly trembling hands. Pulling a glove off, she gently touched a hand to the smooth surface of the dark brown desk. The texture was sleek and sturdy; a true masterpiece of carpentry. Slipping her glove back on, Drake rounded the table and settled in front of the door leading into the most sacred of the building. With a deep breath, she raised her knuckles up against the wood.

A moment of silence followed her single knock. Drake closed her eyes as she steadied herself. She was actually surprised to find herself so calm. She had worked so hard to convince herself it was just like any other operation; so certain she would be nervous once on the ball. Maybe it had all been for naught, for as she waited for the response from inside, Drake found herself to be calm, cool and collected.

A voice from inside ordered her to enter, and Drake opened the adorned door. Stepping into the office, she closed the door behind her. The décor was similar to the smaller secretary's office, turned up to eleven. A low round table with two armchairs around it, a lush sofa and a huge plasma TV. A cabinet of the familiar mahogany adorned with glass doors stood in the corner, brimming with idols and framed paintings of silver and gold. Colorful banners and stylish paintings of old covered the walls, making Drake feel like she had just entered an opulent museum.

To her left, a massive table ran along the length of the wall. Where the secretary's desk had been reasonably large, this one was like a fortress; several computer screens covered one side of the table while the other one contained paperwork, with the middle left empty for working space. A huge computer chair stood behind the desk, and Drake laid her eyes down as the man from behind the desk regarded her with deliberation.

"_Raise your eyes. What is your name?" _the man spoke in Arabic. Drake lifted her head up, laying eyes on the man so familiar from the mission briefing.

His receding hairline had been cut short and his dark beard was neatly trimmed. The wrinkles around his eyes spoke of many decades in power; that would end today if Drake had anything to say about it.

Hajid. An influential name in the circles of Khobar even before the alien war and the rise of EXALT. The man had been a known crime lord with unproven ties to Al-Qaeda, but over the past few months it had become exceedingly clear where his loyalties lay. He was EXALT's main operator in the Middle East and a prime target for slowing down the global terrorist organization.

Drake spoke her fake name in her best accent before falling silent. Don't speak unless spoken to. Only say what is specifically asked of you. Those were the two golden rules of conduct for her during the operation; they had worked well enough thus far.

Hajid steepled his fingers in contemplation, shifting his eyes from Drake to one of the paintings on the wall. _"Your instructions are on your desk. Familiarize yourself with them well. If you have any questions, ask them now", _the man spoke in a civil and sophisticated manner, yet there were sinister undertones running below the surface. Drake nodded her understanding but kept her mouth shut; she knew exactly what she needed to do.

Leaning back in his chair, Hajid turned towards the computer screens on his desk. _"You're dismissed",_ he commanded with a wave of a hand and Drake bowed her head down, turning back towards the door.

"_Oh and one last thing", _Hajid's words froze Drake in place as she reached a hand to the doorknob. _"My word is the word of God here. You would do well to remember that."_ The words were spoken casually, but they were loaded with intent; Drake knew what had happened to the previous secretary.

"_Yes, sir"_, Drake answered before opening the door and stepping back into the smaller office. Her heart was beating slightly faster but other than that, she was still calm. Sitting down behind her desk, she opened the bag.

Inside, she had a binder and a set of pens and pencils. Pulling them from the bag, she laid them out on the table. Easily slipping by the security checks, the inconspicuous items one would assume belonged to a regular secretary turned out to be the tools of trade of a covert operative.

Two of the pens were crafted out of a special mixture of alloys and various compounds, making them undetectable by electronic device scanners and impermeable to x-rays. The materials couldn't be used to make complex devices, but they were perfect for hiding a couple of USB drives. The third pen was something far more malevolent.

A shudder of disgust passed through Drake as she picked up the implement. _Is this really what we've come down to? Poisoning people?_ The task was gruesome and unsavory, but just as when she had first discussed the plan with the Council's agents, Kilroy's words from months ago rose to her mind.

"_Whatever it takes, Drake. We'll do whatever it takes, right?"_ Taking a deep breath, Drake rolled the pen between her fingers.

"We'll do whatever it takes, Kilroy", she muttered under her breath, laying the deadly gadget down on the desk. Grabbing the stack of instructions, Drake began her wait.

The Arabic symbols swam past her eyes as Drake waited. The plan was simple enough; go ask Hajid for a signature on a document. Offer him a pen to write with, and 'accidentally' scratch him with it. The poison would kick in within a few minutes, paralyzing the man. It would slowly shut down his entire body, but the effect would be delayed; he would not be dead for thirty or so minutes, allowing Drake to leave the perimeter before EXALT HQ would even register the man as dead.

The door to the office swung open as Hajid came striding in. He was wearing his coat and turban, and Drake felt her heart lurch in her chest as she looked up from the instructions.

"_I'm going out on business. Hold down the office in my absence."_ The terrorist leader waited for no response as he locked the door to his office and strode out into the long corridor.

Drake glanced about the room with rising dread. She was supposed to wait for an hour or so before carrying out the deed to avoid raising suspicion; now she had no idea how long she would have to wait. A sudden ringing from her right caused Drake to jump up in her chair, her heart skipping a beat.

The ringing continued and Drake gave her head a shake, trying to calm herself as she reached for the phone. With a deep breath, she brought the phone up to her ear, speaking the rehearsed phrase with only a slightly shaky voice.

"_Mister Hajid's office, how may I help you?" _The response was a jumbled mess of Arabic, spoken in such a rapid pace and through such a thick accent Drake had no hope of understanding any of it.

Smiling behind the niqab as if she were actually face-to-face with the speaker, Drake waited for the flood of words to die down. The smile reflected in her voice as she answered with another rehearsed phrase, _"I am sorry, Mister Hajid is not available right now. We will contact you within the next twenty-four hours. Thank you and have a good day."_

Not waiting for a reply, Drake hung up on the caller and placed the phone back in its holder. With a deep breath, she rested her back against the chair. She could only hope nobody would be insistent enough to call back; Hajid's name carried a lot of power, and she was relying on it to stave off any further inquiries coming in. After all, she wasn't really worried for the longevity of this job.

The wait throughout the morning was an anxious one. The phone rang three more times; each time Drake acted out her charade, and each time there was no follow-up. The morning turned to noon and with each passing minute, Drake felt more and more uneasy. No way of contacting her support team; no way of knowing whether or not Hajid was even coming back before sundown.

The clock was approaching 1 pm when the door to the corridor swung open and the EXALT leader strode into her office. Drake looked up from the computer monitor, pretending to have been working. _"Good day, sir"_, she spoke, receiving a dismissive wave from Hajid as he headed straight for his office. The man was speaking on his cell phone and as he disappeared into the office, Drake drew in a deep breath.

_Don't rush it now. He's still on the phone. Give it a minute._ The next few minutes felt agonizingly long as Drake held back the urge to burst into the office and get it over with. Finally, she picked up the clipboard containing the fake documents they had prepared in advance. Sticking the pens into the front pocket of her dark, flowing shirt, she reached for the intercom.

Pressing the buzzer, she waited for the response from inside. The device came to life as Hajid's voice inquired what she wanted. _"There are some documents awaiting your signature, sir"_, Drake informed him. Waiting with baited breath, she tensed every muscle in her body as she prepared to jump up. Realizing how silly she was acting as the nervousness of the unexpected wait was about to be released, Drake deliberately relaxed herself, limb by limb. As Hajid gave his go-ahead on the intercom, she took a deep breath before standing up and walking up to the door.

Pushing into the office, she walked up to the massive desk with her head held respectfully down. Removing the document from the clipboard, she offered it to the man. As he reached for the paper, Drake pulled out the pen containing the poison. Preparing to hand it to Hajid, Drake felt her throat tighten up as the man waved her away dismissively, reaching for a quill sitting in a decorated ink bottle instead.

_A quill? Nobody told me about a quill. Oh shit, shit, shit._ Hajid dipped the quill methodically into the ink bottle, shaking it ever-so-slightly inside to rid of the excess liquid. _Come on, think, think! Think goddammit!_

Acting on instinct, Drake half dropped, half threw the clipboard at the ink bottle. Hajid let out a sharp curse as the bottle toppled over, spilling dark ink over the expensive mahogany table. Drake muttered apologies as she fumbled to gather the papers spilling out of the clipboard, the very urgency and panic in her actions reflecting her feelings at the moment.

Hajid jumped up from the table, bringing the back of his hand across Drake's cheek, hard. Biting into the aching flesh, Drake felt tears well up in her eyes from the impact. Muttering another apology, she prepared herself for a fight if that's what it would come down to. Cursing once more, Hajid inspected the damage done to the table and his clothes; luckily, none had spilled over the man himself.

"_Give me that pen, woman."_ His harsh words rang blissfully in Drake's ears. Clicking the tip out, Drake offered the pen to Hajid. The tip scratched the side of his hand, breaking the skin. A single drop of blood rolled out, disappearing into the dark ink of the table with a splash.

"_Oh I am so sorry sir, I'm just so nervous please forgive me, oh I didn't mean to sir"_, Drake's apologies filled the air as Hajid cussed vehemently, shooting his secretary a poisonous stare as he wrenched the pen from her grasp. Muttering under his breath, he leaned over to sign the document.

"_Thank you, sir. Please, would you like to sit down while I clean this up? May I pour you a drink?"_ Drake played out the part of the concerned secretary perfectly as she guided Hajid to one of the chairs sitting by the low table in the lounge part of the office. The EXALT leader seemed to have had a rough day so far; he let go of his anger quickly in face of Drake's helping hand, sitting down with a sigh.

"_Water, please"_, he spoke in a tired voice as he leaned back against the chair. Hearing the pretty please, Drake stopped in her tracks for a brief moment before heading for the cabinet containing the crystal carafe. The carafe stood in a glass bowl filled with dry ice, and Drake poured Hajid a glass of cool, clear water.

Walking back to the table, Drake offered him the glass. _"Here you go, sir. I will get something to clean up the mess with, sir"_, she spoke, completely natural in her secretary's role now. Maybe it was the result of the adrenaline rush that had followed the knife's edge situation mere moments ago, or maybe it was the knowledge her target would be pacified soon enough. Either way, Drake bowed her head down respectfully before leaving the room.

Waiting outside the door for two minutes, Drake returned inside. Just as expected, Hajid was sitting down in his chair, head rolled over against his shoulder. One could have mistaken him to be sleeping, but for the open eyes. Walking up to him, Drake wiped a hand over his face, closing the eyelids. If anyone were to enter by freak chance, at least she could try to explain the situation long enough to devise an escape plan. She had about thirty minutes before the poison would completely shut down his vital functions, alerting the higher-ups at EXALT HQ. After that, it would be an unknown amount of time before the cell would be on full alert.

Heading behind the desk, Drake turned her attention to the computer. Hajid was still logged in, just as planned. Picking up one of the pens from her front pocket, Drake rolled the gadget open. Sticking the USB flash drive in, she executed the data mining program within. Preliminary simulations had shown around ten to fifteen minutes for the process; she should have plenty of time, forgoing any complications.

Drumming the table impatiently with her fingers, Drake looked about the room. Hajid was lying in his chair, motionless. It was a gruesome way to carry out the mission indeed, but it had been deemed necessary. The leader's death would leave the Saudi Arabian EXALT branch in disarray; along with the corruption of their computer network, they would be embroiled in a bloody internal battle for succession, at least if the Council's experts were to be trusted.

Carefully picking up the poisoned pen from the table, Drake clicked the tip back inside. Digging out the cap from her pocket, she carefully rolled it shut tight over the dangerous implement. Slipping the pen into her pocket, she resumed her wait for the program.

After ten more minutes, the window on the monitor signaled the completion of the data mine. Pulling the USB drive out, Drake inserted the next one. This one contained a powerful computer virus specifically designed to corrupt EXALT's computerized systems. Executing the file, it only took seconds for the upload to be completed. Putting away the inconspicuous gadgets, Drake shot Hajid one final look before taking a deep breath and stepping out into the secretary's office.

Grabbing her bag, Drake slung the strap over her chest as she walked out into the corridor leading towards the main hall. The niqab was covering her face, but she felt like her eyes must have given away all of her secrets. Steeling herself, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the open hall.

"_Where are you going, woman?"_ One of the guards on the door asked, stopping Drake's advance with an assault rifle raised across her chest. Drake had been expecting the inquiry, yet it still made the smallest of shivers run down her back.

"_Mister Hajid sent me out to lunch, sir." _Her response seemed to satisfy the guard as he nodded curtly, lowering his rifle. Drake walked past him and down the stairs, focusing on taking normal, measured steps below the sunlight filled arch of the dome above.

_Just two more checkpoints,_ she thought to herself. The guards at the door of the building let her pass without inquiry and as Drake stepped out into the dazzling sunlight of the Khobar afternoon, she felt a peculiar giddiness rise in the pit of her stomach. _They're really going to just let me walk right out of here. _The thought was intoxicating; the complete and total success seemingly within her grasp. Approaching the guards at the gate, Drake explained her situation.

"_Nobody leaves during working hours. Eat in the mess"_, the guard stated coldly, pointing her in the direction of the low clay building. The giddy feeling in her stomach transformed into a cold knot as the guard turned away from her.

"_But, Mister Hajid told me he doesn't want his secretary eating with the soldiers, sir"_, Drake explained as her pulse picked up. The guard snorted dismissively, waving his hand at her.

Taking a deep breath, Drake straightened her back. _"Mister Hajid, your fearless leader and chosen of God, gave me a direct order not to dine with the men of this compound. Do you wish me to take your complaints up with him, guard?" _Drake's voice was booming with authority, her eyes sparkling with anger. The guard stared at her in disbelief. Clearly it was the first time a woman other than his mother had defied him.

The man raised his hand, ready to bring it across the insolent secretary's cheek. His eyes were confused as he shot a look at his fellow guardsman, his hand wavering in hesitation. _"I take that as a yes, sir"_, Drake spoke confidently, seizing on the moment of uncertainty and stepping through the gates. Tensing herself as she prepared to bolt to cover should they demand she return, Drake walked across the street.

No demands followed. Drake carried on down the street towards the marketplace, never looking back. Good twenty minutes had passed since Hajid's poisoning; she would be far away before he would be discovered, and even farther away before they could link her to the events. Or rather, link the fake identity of Mister Hajid's secretary to the events.

Halfway down the street, Drake turned between the buildings to finally disappear from the sight of the guards. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, she weaved her way through the dusty Arabian city. She passed by women carrying small children and groceries; men out and about on business. The life-blood of the suburbs pulsed all around her, but something didn't feel right.

Turning another corner, Drake advanced down the alleyway. Glancing behind her as she took the next turn, a dark realization occurred to her; she was being followed.

Three men in sunglasses and turbans. Drake continued down the alleyways between the sandstone buildings and after three more turns, there was no doubt about it. They were shadowing her. _This is bad. I need to lose them. Could use some backup right about now._ Taking solace in the fact at least she didn't need to bow her head down anymore, Drake looked for an opportunity to lose her pursuers.

Rounding another corner, Drake found herself standing on the edge of an open bazaar bustling with activity. Walking briskly to the town square, she disappeared between the stands. Glancing behind her, she saw two men run out into the market, searching the crowd of people frantically with their eyes. Drake passed by a stand selling fish, joining two women clad in dark burqas as they headed across the bazaar, their woven baskets filled with fresh goods.

_Only two. I could swear I saw three men before,_ Drake noted to herself, somewhat concerned. Following the women to the edge of the bazaar, Drake separated from her decoys as she disappeared into the alleyways once again. The sun bore down relentlessly on the city as she passed between the shadows cast by the buildings surrounding her. Walking under the arc of a doorway, she proceeded to cut through a tenement's pillared walkway.

A man clad in dusty clothes and sunglasses emerged from around the corner to Drake's right. Shouting vehemently in Arabic, he brought the muzzle of a handgun to Drake's head as he pushed her against one of the pillars. Grabbing the bosom of her shirt, the man shook her violently while spouting insults.

Drake stared into his sunglasses as adrenaline rushed her body. The hard metal of the gun pressed intently against her forehead, scraping at her skin through the cloth of the niqab as the man twisted and forced the weapon at her. Struggling to understand the heated demands her assaulter was yelling in-between insults, Drake averted her gaze, looking for a way out.

Seeing the man's arm, Drake's head cleared up. He was wearing a white cloth wrapped around his arm, with a black stencil on it. It depicted the head of an alien impaled on a spear, with the Islamic crescent and star next to it. _They think I'm EXALT. They're going to kill me._

"No, no no! I'm American, American! Don't shoot!" Drake spoke up frantically through the man's demands. He paused for a moment before speaking in English; through a heavy accent but coherent this time.

"What were you doing with the Defilers, American? Do not lie, or I will end your life." Drake stared at her own reflection in the man's sunglasses, at the weapon pointed towards her head. Taking a deep breath, Drake prepared herself. She couldn't let her other pursuers catch up.

Speaking the truth, Drake moved her right arm to point at her side, "I have information on EXALT. Right here." The reflection in the sunglasses distorted as the man turned his head, and Drake burst into action.

Pulling her legs up below her, Drake lunged down towards the ground. An explosion shook her world as incessant ringing filled her head, her eyes blurring with tears. Dust, debris and plaster rained down on her as she reached a hand up to grab the gun. Gathering her legs under herself, special operative Drake launched herself forward, flying across the corridor with her assaulter.

Crashing the man against the wall, she twisted and pulled hard on his wrist, sending the handgun clattering to the floor. A heavy strike landed across Drake's cheek, throwing her to the ground. Scrambling on all four, she shook her head as the vertigo and constant ringing looked to tip her over. Hands grabbed the back of her shirt, pulling her up harshly.

Reaching behind her, Drake freed herself of the enemy's grasp. Spinning around to face him, she blocked a strike aimed at her face. Forced backwards, she let her training take over as she blocked the man's attacks, blinking away furiously as she tried to steady herself for a counter attack. The ringing seemed like it would never cease. She had no clue of her surroundings; who knows what kind of a crowd had gathered following the gunshot? If the two other men had reached her, it would be curtains.

Seeing her moment come, Drake didn't hesitate. Blocking a strike from her assaulter, she brought her elbow up in his face. His nose broke with a sickening crunch, sending streams of blood flying on his cheeks as the sunglasses were thrown off. Drake followed up with a push to get some distance from the stunned enemy before spinning around, catching the man in the stomach with a roundhouse kick, knocking the wind out of him. As the man crashed against one of the pillars Drake was already away, dashing through the corridor and disappearing into the alleyways beyond.

_Shit, shit, shit. Don't you dare stop me now or I will kick your asses,_ she thought as she dashed past a group of surprised civilians. Men shouted angry inquiries after her as she knocked them aside in her haste. _Hello there, this is Drake. Scheduled for one stoning to death today, thank you._ The thought made her bark up a wild laugh in-between gasps for air as she fled the AO.

* * *

><p>The evening winds picked up on the ends of the scarf wrapped around Drake's head; gone was the uncomfortable niqab, replaced with a light, breathing cloth. Walking across the asphalt of the airstrip, she approached the private jet that would take her to India on her way back to XCOM HQ. The sun was setting down, its last rays casting long shadows over the open ground of the airfield.<p>

_Why didn't we know about these guys? It's inexcusable_, the thought came to her mind once again. She hadn't had time to debrief properly yet; the safe house she had reached had been a horrific dump, with ants crawling out of the shower and a radio phone to contact her support squad. She had passed up on the first one and taken the second. The agents had been baffled as she had briefly described the attack; so much for Earth's finest intelligence services.

Reaching the steps leading up to the jet, Drake pulled the shades from her eyes and greeted the pilot at the door. He didn't ask any questions, and Drake was perfectly happy to just quietly shuffle into the passenger cabin. A single hostess was there to tend to her needs and Drake told the young Arab to bring her something to eat. She was starving; the lunch she had supposedly left for had never come to pass, and it was already eleven hours since she had last eaten.

Laying herself down in a seat, Drake closed her eyes as the hardships of the day were finally over. As the pilot announced they were cleared to take wing, she snapped her seatbelt on. Pulling off the scarf, she was glad she didn't have to cover her head anymore.

_I wonder how Kilroy would've coped with a law telling her to wear a hijab in public. I bet she would've kicked the collective asses of the whole country. _The thought made her smile as the airstrip speeded past her in the window, the rumbling of the plane oddly comforting. As the plane took off, Drake watched the city slowly shrink below her. By the time the hostess returned with her meal, Drake was already fast asleep.


	56. Chapter 56: Scarred

Chapter 56: Scarred

Episodes 60-61

Beads of sweat glimmered on Squint's forehead as she pushed herself up and down on top of the two benches. Going down low, she grunted as the gap between approached her; she couldn't give up now, or she would plunge all the way down to the floor. With a pained groan, she struggled for a moment before lifting her body up. Pulling her feet under her, she collapsed to the space in-between the benches, resting herself against the wooden seats.

Catching her breath, Squint glanced around the gym. A good number of operatives were out training; a small crowd had gathered around Wolfer as he went for the outfit's new record in bench press; the big assault had been working on his muscle mass non-stop since his recovery from the friendly fire incident. Gamage was doing crunches on a mat next to her, smiling at her every time she brought her torso up.

Squint clambered to her feet, grabbing her water bottle and sitting down on the bench proper. Drinking and steadying her breathing, she waited for Gamage to finish her set. Close-by, Pavehawk was doing deadlifts. The Italian rocketeer's face was twisted in anger as she breathed hard, preparing to lift. With a primal howl, the woman jerked on the barbell and brought it up above her head before crashing it back down with a shout.

"Is she always this loud?" Squint muttered at Gamage, feeling embarrassed for the rocketeer as several people around the gym glanced back at her. Pavehawk seemed completely oblivious to it all, psyching herself up for another rep.

Gamage turned to regard her roommate over her shoulder. Turning back towards Squint, she wore a small, tender smile on her face. "That's just how she is. Poor little Pavehawk", she said in a quiet, almost wistful voice.

Squint cocked her head as she regarded the peculiar sniper. She was so different from the rest of the outfit's soldiers who were always throwing gibes and jests at each other. Meanwhile, Gamage was just happily smiling away. Squint had thought she was extraordinarily quiet, but once they had gotten to know each other, the sniper had begun speaking up more often in her presence.

Her words often matched her demeanor; positive and happy, with an undertone of wistfulness. For some reason, Squint couldn't shake the thought that Gamage seemed so impossibly lonely. Maybe it was just because of how genuinely nice she seemed to be all the time. Or maybe because she really was lonely.

Squint stood up, rolling her shoulders as she got ready for one last set of push-ups. Noticing the approaching Morgan, she groaned as she recognized the familiar, mischievous grin on her roommate's face. The sporty assault walked with bounce in her step as she hailed Squint and Gamage.

"Well hello there, Mrs. President", Morgan spoke with a sparkle in her eye, never getting tired of the same old joke. Squint fell back down on the bench, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Come on, Morgan. Seriously, just drop it", she tried to convince her friend, failing miserably as a small, involuntary smile crept to her lips.

Morgan turned around, regarding the specialist medic AlexD who was working on his biceps some distance away. The South African's dark skin glimmered with sweat, and his flamboyant hair was reminiscent of the American actor Mr. T. Turning back to Squint, the assault puckered her lips and squinted her eyes.

"Mmmhhmm, now I gotta go for cocoa!" With a laugh, Morgan burst into the 90's hit song "Coco Jambo" while Squint shook her head in frustration.

"It's COCO goddammit, not cocoa!" she shouted through Morgan's singing, but to no avail. The assault spun around, swinging her hips to the song while throwing the perplexed AlexD a wink and a flying kiss. Squint buried her face in her hands, glancing at the puzzled yet ever-smiling Gamage from between her fingers.

It had all begun on her R&R in Nagoya with Morgan and Petete. The energetic assault had been pulling Squint and Pete around with her as the three women had gotten stupendously drunk. Squint still felt the pangs of regret and emotional hangover as she remembered the night.

Towards the end, they had found themselves in a public karaoke bar. Petete had already reached the quiet, just-let-me-go-home stage of the night, though she had been partying uncharacteristically hard up to that point. Once Squint had spotted the song Coco Jambo by Mr. President on the list, she had instantly signed up. Morgan had laughed herself silly watching the small Pole sway on the stage, singing the ridiculous 90's classic at the top of her lungs.

"I used to dance to this in my pre-teens! Whoooo!" Morgan imitated Squint's drunken words in-between her singing, causing a bright red to flush the scout's cheeks.

As they had headed back to their hotel, the small hours blues had struck Squint hard. Her excited and energetic intoxication had turned to depressed and mopey as she had cried against Morgan's shoulder how much she missed Kamikaze. The assault had had a field day the next morning, tormenting and teasing Squint with the embarrassments of the night before. And it wasn't looking like she'd let up anytime soon.

"Are you finished?" Squint snapped at the laughing ex-marine as she finally stopped her hollering.

Morgan was wiping tears from her eyes, clearly too amused by her own wit. Rounding the benches, she pointed a finger at Squint and ordered in a stern voice, "Weren't you training anyway, corporal? Get on those benches and give me ten, midget!"

Squint frowned at the ADHD –like change in her superior's behavior. Jumping back up and spreading her arms and legs over the support, she drew in a deep breath. With a determined grimace, Squint began her set. One… two… three… her lungs were burning up as she gasped for air, and her pectoral muscles screamed at her to stop by the time she reached six.

"You goddamn maggot, give me another one! What are you, a kindergarten teacher or a soldier? One more you miserable pile of shredded uterus your mother pushed out of her cunt! Come on! Give me ten! Give me ten you worthless sack of shit!" As Morgan goaded her on, Squint struggled halfway up the last push-up. With a pained grunt she finally gave up, pulling her legs under her as she collapsed in-between the two benches.

"Aaah, I guess that was an okay performance. Well done, President Pipsqueak!" Morgan jeered good-naturedly, giving Squint's hair a tussle. Grinning a little at the scout's frown, Morgan turned towards Gamage.

The assault cocked her head, evaluating the sniper with her eyes. "So, I heard you brought back some dandelions yesterday?" she asked in a tone one couldn't quite place on the grid of curious, amused and condescending. Gamage just smiled at the assault, giving her an affirming nod in response.

Gamage had been part of a small crashed UFO operation yesterday. While Hypergeek had boastingly brought back two sectoid captives, Gamage had brought back some fresh August flowers perched in her hair. JBowles, who had been on the operation with her, had laughingly titled her The Happiest Sniper; one who has time to pick flowers amidst nailing every one of her shots on the enemy.

Not getting any further reactions out of the quiet Italian, Morgan turned back to Squint. Leaning in closer, the assault lowered her voice so people outside of their group of three couldn't hear her, "So, a little bird told me you have the day off tomorrow. You finally gonna get some of that, hmm?" She grossly emphasized her words with a wink and a nudge, causing Squint to pull away with a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

It had been almost two months ago since she and Kamikaze had officially become a couple on the day of their discharge from the medbay. Even though she cared greatly for him, she had wanted to advance slowly in their relationship. Kamikaze had been completely understanding, and even though she kept telling herself it was only because she didn't want things to get weird between them, Squint knew she was lying to herself. She yearned to be closer to him; to feel the comfort of another human being to its fullest in these dark times. But she was afraid.

"Sure is a shame. I know I'd be getting some relief if I had a man around here. You mind if I borrow him?" Morgan's crude jest brought Squint back from her thoughts, and she shot the assault an angry look.

"NO! Don't you start… I mean, goddammit Morgan!" she blundered over her words as the meddling woman messed with her head.

Leaning over to give her cheek a small pat, Morgan smiled down at Squint. "Well, do whatever you feel like, honey. But keep in mind, men don't like waiting forever!" With that, Morgan straightened her back and strode away towards the showers, throwing Pavehawk a small wave as the rocketeer approached the group with a frown.

Squint slumped down on the bench, her shoulders drooping in defeat. She glanced absentmindedly to the side as she dwelled on her friend's words. Gamage's face still seemed oddly happy as she grimaced from the effort of stretching her abs; Pavehawk had her towel slung over her shoulder while staring sternly off into the distance. She wouldn't be getting any advice or help from that pair.

_You can't be afraid forever,_ a thought crossed Squint's mind as she let out a deep sigh. Some wounds would never heal; she knew that. Lying around and hoping for the best had never been like her. With a deep breath, she braced herself for what was to come.

* * *

><p>The last of the day's drills were over as Kamikaze took the SAW to its designated small arms locker. A small group of men was following him, the conversation led on by the spirited Wolfer who had managed to break the bench press record of the outfit earlier the same day. Of course, the previous record had been his as well.<p>

"Hear you've got the night off, FUBAR. Man what I'd give to be you, gonna get some of that sweet, sweet pie am I right?" the assault commented amiably, slamming a hand to Kamikaze's back as he settled his assault rifle back into the weapons rack. Kamikaze shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing away from the big man.

Wolfer gave a low, long whistle at the gunner's reaction. "All talk, no joy huh? I feel for ya", he said sympathetically, placing a hand on Kamikaze's shoulder.

"You don't know anything about them. I'd keep those comments to myself", Iku commented dryly, receiving a dismissive look from Wolfer. With a shrug, the assault turned towards the door leading back into the corridor.

"Whatever, man. Was nice training with you boys, see you later", he said before striding out of the small arms locker, waving good-bye over his shoulder.

Kamikaze let out a sigh as he turned towards Iku. "It's fine, Iku. He didn't mean ill", he lectured the sniper absentmindedly even as the assault's words kept ringing in his ears. He really didn't want to push Squint beyond anything she was ready for, but… There was always a but, wasn't there?

"I don't think he's wrong, you know." The words from Vherid caused Iku and Kamikaze to turn their heads. The sniper had been leaning against the back wall, fiddling with the lock of his sniper rifle. Looking Kamikaze in the eye, he continued, "I mean, his way of putting it is rude, but I think he's also right. Either one of you could be dead by tomorrow, Kamikaze. You need to grasp the moment while you've got it. _Carpe diem_, my friend."

Kamikaze straightened his back and rolled his shoulders, contemplating on the sniper's words. Vherid was much the same on the battlefield as he was around the base: always hanging back and keeping a low profile before striking at the perfect moment with impeccable accuracy.

"I'll keep that in mind", Kamikaze said with a smile, heading towards the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back towards the duo of snipers. "Dinner?" he asked briefly. Both men responded with nods, and Kamikaze waited for them to put their gear away before leading them towards the cafeteria.

Encountering other operatives on the way, their group of three grew into a small crowd. Entering the large dining area, Kamikaze cursed his luck as the rush hour was upon them. The tables were mostly full with a lengthy line of personnel waiting at the counter. Engineers, scientists and base security had all rushed in as their shifts changed.

With his tray filled, Kamikaze turned to survey the hall. Desperately looking for a table that could accommodate their party, he noticed Squint rise from the back of the room. She headed towards the dish return with Gamage, Pavehawk and Morgan trailing behind her.

"I hate the rush hour. Should've just waited", Iku commented ruefully as he came to a halt next to Kamikaze. With some anxiety, Kamikaze glanced towards the girls who were now approaching them on their way out of the cafeteria.

"Hey", Squint greeted him. The anxiousness in her voice was apparent to Kamikaze, and it made him feel a little better about his own nervousness. Returning the greeting, Kamikaze struggled to find words to follow-up with. A small crowd had gathered around them as the rest of the operatives got their trays filled, and Morgan was leering at the two of them from beyond Squint's shoulder.

Pouncing on the awkward atmosphere Morgan leaned over, speaking with glee, "Heeeey, pipsqueak. Didn't you say you wanted to talk with Kamikaze? You should go with the boys, I'll catch you later." Squint shot a startled look at the assault, a bright red flushing her cheeks.

"Hey, I think I see a table for us!" Vherid shouted over the hustle and bustle of the cafeteria, gesturing for the crowd to follow him. Glancing at Kamikaze, he nodded his head towards a corner of the hall. "I don't think there's enough room, you guys will have to find someplace else. Sorry", he spoke with a discreet wink, drawing a thankful chuckle out of Kamikaze and a disappointed pout out of Morgan.

Heading out into the corner, Kamikaze settled at the end of a long table next to some members of the research team. Squint sat down opposite from him, leaning her elbows on the table. Kamikaze picked up his fork, hesitant. Searching for the words, he frowned at his meal. _This is ridiculous. Just speak and get it over with._

Looking up at Squint, Kamikaze opened his mouth just as she did. Speaking over one another, they both paused before insisting the other continue.

"Sorry, you go ahead", Kamikaze said, feeling ridiculously embarrassed for no good reason. Squint let out a small, nervous giggle, causing a smile to rise to the gunner's lips.

"Felt like I was back in high school in front of that crowd", Squint remarked, another giggle escaping her lips. With a laugh, Kamikaze muttered his agreement. With most of the tension gone, he looked Squint in the eye while lifting his eyebrows inquisitively.

Squint returned his look before glancing aside, brushing up her hair. "Oh, right. Ummm… would you like to hang out tonight?" she said weakly. Just as Kamikaze was about to answer, Squint shook herself and slammed a hand to the table, startling him.

"That's not what I meant to say", Squint said in an angry voice, drawing in a deep breath. "Do you want to spend the night? In The… that room Scuba set up", she concluded with a slight blush.

Scubaman had arranged for one of the empty rooms in the barracks to be permanently open. The official stance of the brass was that everyone had to sleep in their own bunks and as such, the empty rooms had been locked up. But Scuba had set up what he called "The Love Nest", a place where operatives could go to have some quiet time with each other. There had been no use for the room thus far, and Scuba assured there would be no crackdowns as long as there wouldn't be another Zim –incident.

Kamikaze smiled at the woman before him. That was just so like her; she might get flustered and embarrassed easily, but she ultimately always carried out her will. She might not have been Kilroy or Renzol, but in Kamikaze's eyes, she was the strongest of them all.

"I'd love to", he responded calmly, the words causing the red on Squint's face to deepen. Reaching a hand over, he gave her cheek a gentle caress. Squint stared intently at the surface of the table as the red turned to scarlet. Looking up, she shot Kamikaze what was supposed to be an angry look.

"Get to eating, mister", she ordered, struggling to hide the smile that attempted to creep its way to her lips. With a chuckle, Kamikaze obliged and turned his attention to the meal before him.

* * *

><p>Squint approached the door to The Nest with a considerable amount of butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. Cracking the door open, she watched as Kamikaze wrapped an old T-shirt around the door handle. Scubaman had pushed for the universal sign of reservation to be women's undergarments, but that wasn't a concession Squint was willing to make.<p>

Stepping inside, she flicked the lights on. Two bunk beds had been pushed together for a makeshift double bed. The upper bunks had been taken down and as Squint made her way over to the bed, she noticed something sitting on top of the pillows. Picking up the piece of paper, she flipped it over to find a message from the infamous man himself.

"_Whether it be gently or roughly, enjoy breaking her in! I went through a lot of trouble setting her up, instructions for clean-up are in the nightstand's drawer._

_PS. It better be you using her first, KamiSquint, or I'll be mighty disappointed ;)_

_XOXOXOXOXO_

_-Z"_

"Oh God…" Squint muttered as she let the note fall to the floor. Running a hand over her face in embarrassment, she regarded the bunks more closely. A proper mattress suitable for a double bed lay below the red bedcover, instead of the thin and uncomfortable pallets of the regular bunks. Pulling the cover aside, Squint stared at the fluffy down and huge, comfortable pillows wrapped in deep red velvet.

"This reeks of Scubaman", Kamikaze noted laconically, but there was an undertone of enthusiasm running below the surface. Bending over to pick up the note, the man let out a chuckle as he eyed through the lines.

Looking up, he saw Squint jump on the bed with glee, bouncing slightly up and down on the springy mattress. Smiling at the girly enthusiasm that seemed to have replaced Squint's anxious mood, he strode over to the nightstand. A single long candle stood on a candlestick, and Kamikaze struck a match from the box next to it. With the mood lighting turned on, he headed back to turn off the intrusive fluorescent lamps above.

With no windows to let in natural light, the candle created a halo of soft illumination around the island of red amidst complete darkness. Squint had settled down on the bed and as Kamikaze sat down next to her, she felt the familiar anxiety return. Trying to distract herself, she turned towards the man beside her.

"Are your shoulders still stiff?" she asked while reaching a hand up to feel for herself. When Kamikaze responded with a nod, she gave his back a gentle push, forcing him off the bed. "Come on, I'll give you a massage. Get down there", she urged with a small smile.

Beginning the familiar task, Squint kneaded and twisted at Kamikaze's broad and muscular shoulders. The man's nape and shoulders seemed to be in a constant state reminiscent of a potato field, and Squint focused on evening out the lumps. Even feeling the man she cared so much for under her hands wasn't enough to shake the rising anguish off of her; or maybe that was exactly the reason she couldn't rid herself of those feelings.

"Hey, let's take this off. Make it a little easier for me", she muttered in a low voice, helping Kamikaze pull the tank top over his head. With better access to his upper back Squint resumed her task, her small yet strong hands eliciting grunts and moans out of Kamikaze.

Under the soft halo of candlelight, Squint slowly let the intensity of her massage drop. Running her eyes over Kamikaze's back, a sadness rushed over her like the waves of a deep blue ocean, leaving her feeling impossibly lonely. Deep ridges of scarred tissue ran between his shoulder blades, some left by a friendly fire rocket, others by a thin man's plasma carbine. Further down, long, jagged patterns ran along the sides of his spine.

Squint gently traced her fingers over the ridges and crevices of his bruised and beaten back. So many wounds from so many battles. Reaching the long scars running the length of his back, Squint pressed herself against him in a tender embrace.

"So much… you've bled so much for us all. For your comrades… and for me." With the last words, Squint felt the tears come over her. As Kamikaze rested his head against her with a sigh, she struggled against the tide. Unable to hold it in, she let the salt water fall on his strong shoulders.

Turning his head, Kamikaze reached a hand up to her cheek. "Squint? What's wrong?" he inquired in a voice filled with concern. When the first sob shook her body, Kamikaze wheeled around, taking her hands in his. "Squint, please. Tell me what's wrong", he begged with uncertain eyes.

Squint pushed her head down with a sniffle, unable to meet his gaze. In a trembling voice, she whispered, "I'm not good enough for you."

Kamikaze's brow furrowed in puzzlement as he struggled to understand. "I don't… Squint, what is this about? You mean my scars?" Rising up to his knees, Kamikaze gave her hand a reassuring squeeze while reaching up to caress her arm. Squint refused to meet his gaze, staring into the velvet sheets of the bed instead. Her cheeks glimmered wetly with tears in the soft candlelight.

"You have bled for us too, the same as me." Placing his hands on her sides, he hesitated for a moment. "May I?" he asked solemnly and as Squint responded with a small nod, he gently pulled the tank top over her head.

She was wearing a simple white bra. Scarred tissue ran from her abs to her chest, and between her breasts, a long red ridge indicated where the surgeons had gone in to stop the internal bleeding. Kamikaze reached over before stopping a second time.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" he asked in a gentle yet unwavering voice. Squint closed her eyes as she gave another nod in agreement. Kamikaze gently placed his fingers on the long scar, and Squint shuddered. Tracing his way along the wound, he spoke their names.

"Renzol… Hawkeye… Doubleu… Burncycle… Morgan… and me. You bled for all of us." As Kamikaze leaned over and placed a gentle kiss at the top of the long scar, another shudder came over Squint. She squeezed her eyes shut, chills running down her spine.

Why? Why did he always make her feel this way? Like a silly little girl, worrying over nothing. But just like he made her feel silly and small, he also washed those doubts away, like a soothing tide. With a light heart, Squint laid the last of her reservations and uncertainties bare before him.

"It's hideous… I'm ugly", she whispered, her throat choking up on the words. When she felt his hand on her chin, Squint let him turn her gaze to meet his.

Kamikaze's eyes were gentle and caring, and a small smile danced on his lips. "Never. You could never be ugly in my eyes. You're beautiful, Squint. Scars and all."

His words were liberating. As fresh tears rolled from her eyes, Squint leaned down and placed her lips over his. It was a gentle kiss, one that soothes your mind and caresses your soul, closing all of the wounds within. As their lips finally parted, Squint rested her forehead against his, drawing in his scent with trembling breath.

"Feeling better?" Kamikaze asked, the smile and laughter shining through his words. Squint felt a smile of her own rise to her lips, and she coughed up a small laugh in response. Sniffling as she wiped away the tears, she felt Kamikaze rise and settle on the bed next to her.

Leaning in closer, he placed his hands on her sides. Gently caressing up and down, his hands settled on the fabric of the bra. "May I?" he inquired for the third time, and Squint muttered her approval without hesitation.

The slightest bit of apprehension was still there as Kamikaze reached around her back, undoing the clasp. Slipping the garment off, Squint laid her arms to her sides. Her heart was racing and her breathing halted as Kamikaze placed a hand on her hip. Squint could feel his eyes run over her; her body tingling from head to toe.

The scarred tissue spread away from the middle, covering the underside of her right breast. The reconstructive surgery had done what it could, but they hadn't been able to return the perfect, globular shape. The skin was wrinkled and jagged, and as Squint felt his hand softly caress the old wound, she drew in a sharp breath.

Leaning in, Kamikaze placed a gentle kiss on her right breast, sending shivers running all over her body. "You are the most beautiful, sexiest woman I know. Scars and all."

As he repeated the words, Squint felt the last of her apprehension dissolve away. Tugging him up, she placed her hands on his cheeks. In the soft candlelight, she pulled Kamikaze in for a long and deep kiss. As their lips opened, Squint released her tongue to its wild, passionate dance. All of the tension and reservations were gone, like they were never there to begin with, leaving only an insatiable desire burning deep inside of her. A lust for life, for the closeness of another human being, gone unanswered for far too long.

Pulling Kamikaze along, she fell on the soft red velvet of the bed. She could feel the growing urgency in him as well; his hands were tracing along her body, leaving a trail of tingles and sparks wherever they touched. Finally breaking the kiss, Squint threw her head back and pushed him down by his shoulders; no words were needed. As his lips closed around her breast, the first of many moans to come left her lips.

Squint squirmed under his strong body as Kamikaze worked his magic. His hands were everywhere, and he divided his attention equally between her breasts. One may have been bruised and battered, but the jolts his touch sent running through her body were the same regardless. A red hot urge was rising deep between her thighs, and Squint tossed about on the bed until she could bear it no longer. Another shove on his shoulders, and Kamikaze slid down along her body, leaving a trail of kisses along her smooth and toned belly.

His hands found their way below the waistband of her pants and Squint lifted her hips off the bed. As Kamikaze jerked both the trousers and her panties off in one swoop, a surprised yelp left Squint's lips. Her boots quickly followed, and before she had time to react to his strong, determined moves, he had already descended between her legs.

She was positively steaming and as Kamikaze's lips closed around her nub, a low, long moan escaped her lips. A deep thrumming ran through her body as she arched her back, instinctively looking for firmer contact. One of her hands grasped onto his hair while the other one searched for hold on the red bedsheets. Her head tossed from side-to-side as Kamikaze's hungry lips did their work on hers.

Climbing ever higher, it didn't take long until Squint felt the release she'd been craving for so desperately begin to build up deep inside of her. Giving Kamikaze's hair a jerk, she pulled him up from between her thighs. "In my… in my pocket…" she panted hard between the words while propping herself up by an elbow.

Her hair was disheveled and eyes clouded with lust as she took in the sight of Kamikaze's strong, bare chest. His face was glimmering with her juices, and as he wiped a hand over his mouth, he seemed similarly incapable of taking his eyes off Squint. Lying amidst the bunched-up red blankets, she was a true sight to behold.

"It's fine, I brought my own", he said with a grin before Squint could finish. Squint burst into laughter, pushing him off the bed before falling on her back. After the giggles passed, she rose to watch as Kamikaze undressed.

His boots flew off into the darkness as he balanced on one foot. The trousers soon followed and Squint smirked approvingly, raising an eyebrow as she regarded his manhood. Absentmindedly biting into her lip, she watched him pull the rubber on.

As Kamikaze climbed on top of her, Squint reached down to grab his stiffness, giving him a firm yet gentle stroke. Rising up to whisper in his ear, she spoke in a husky voice, "I'll give you your service later. Right now, I want you to take this cock of yours and fuck me. Slow and deep."

Kamikaze's nostrils flared at the words as Squint gave him a mischievous smile. She knew exactly what to say to get a man riled up, and she could be quite commanding when she wanted to. However, her attitude quickly changed as he entered her, filling her world up. Letting out a low whimper, she crossed her arms behind his neck, pulling him down into a passionate kiss. She could taste herself on his lips and as Kamikaze began his slow, methodic movements, she could feel the release begin to build up inside of her once again.

Kamikaze did as she asked of him; he went slow and deep as Squint moaned below him. He went slow and deep as she pulled him in for another kiss, their tongues lashing wildly at each other. He went slow and deep as she arched her back in ecstasy, her breasts rising up, offering him ready access. Only after she wrapped her legs around him, moaning his name over and over again as she reached her peak, could he no longer go slow and deep.

With one last hectic push to the finish line, the world exploded around the two of them, drowning out the heartache, sorrows, pain, uncertainty and mortal danger that lurked beyond the soft halo of candlelight.


	57. Chapter 57: C-M-C-D had a farm

Chapter 57: C-M-C-D had a farm...

Episode 62

"Whoaa, Nelly! Giddyup, boy! Yee-haw!"

Spirited shouts filled the air around the farm as Private First Class Cameron McDonald slammed her heels into the sides of FRAG-E. The alloy SHIV's motors revved as it boosted through the lumpy field, throwing up mud and dirt with its treads. Right behind, three red and angry bulls gave them chase. That is, if bulls were aliens wearing armor resembling Luchador-masks with huge blades taped to their wrists.

"Drive me closer, FRAG-E! I wanna hit them with my cattle prod! Yee-haw!"

The SHIV took a steep bank to its right, CMCD rocking hard in the rough ride. One of the berserkers diverted off its path to intercept, and the SHIV barreled straight towards it on a collision course. The rookie pointed her arc thrower at the alien and as the great beast loomed right above them, she pulled the trigger.

"YEE-HAW! YELLAW-BELLY DOWN!"

The SHIV jerked and bumped as its treads left muddy patterns on the alien's armor, CMCD hollering at the top of her lungs as the machine climbed over the twitching body of the berserker. Blasting off back towards the barn, the two creatures continued to give them chase. Bumbling over their fallen brother's body like the three stooges in some macabre sketch, they roared out their anger and frustration at the escaping cowgirl.

"What the fuck is she doing?!" JBowles yelled from the top of a grain silo the squad had taken refuge at. Stoli, Panzerskank and Morgan shared his sentiments as they all stared agape at the approaching rookie riding the alloy SHIV.

"I don't care but you need to kill those things!" Daishi shouted from her spot atop a telephone pole. Her arms and legs were wrapped around the pole as she held on for dear life; rookie DoctorSheep had followed the example set out by the tech sergeant on the pole next in line.

The SHIV passed by below them, CMCD spouting her nonsense out into the night. As the berserkers approached, they changed their target. Grabbing onto the metal reinforcements of the silo, they began their climb up.

JBowles shouldered his rocket launcher, blasting a shredder rocket into the ground right below the two beasts. The shrapnel buried itself deep into their backsides, only causing the monstrous creatures to climb faster in their anger. Their roars shook JBowles in his boots as he felt a tiny bit of urine slip past the safeguard of his sphincter. "Oh fuck this", he muttered as his face twisted into a true perversion of a smile, followed by a desperate laugh.

Morgan and Panzerskank leaned over, focusing down one of the climbing hulks with their laser weapons. Stoli yelled for everyone to stand clear as she rolled a grenade over. The explosion blasted up past the edge of the silo, the green flames hot on the operatives faces. One of the creatures let go as it tumbled down into the ground, but the other one appeared in their sights as it slammed its hands on top of the silo.

With a primordial howl, JBowles drove his rocket launcher into the berserker's face. The creature fell off the silo with one last roar, and the rocketeer stared at his launcher in disbelief. "I…I did it! I killed the beast!" he shouted triumphantly, only to have Morgan tap a hand to his shoulder.

"Sorry to crash the party, Diesel. Wasn't you", she said with a grin, pointing a finger down to ground level. JBowles gave the assault a perplexed look before turning to look where she was pointing at.

CMCD sat astride FRAG-E, smoke rising from the barrel of the SHIV's superheavy laser. The woman had a crazy smile on her face as she noisily spat out a huge ball of gob onto the ground.

"Well I'll be if that wasn't one big pile of bullshit!" she spoke merrily, causing everyone to just stare at her, agape.

Daishi was the first one to burst into laughter at her telephone pole, and soon everyone followed, the absurdity of the very real situation slowly sinking in.


End file.
